Fire Meet Gasoline
by ScintillatingTart
Summary: The sequel to Breathe Me and Chandelier: When things take a turn, will Harry and Ruth be able to hold together their family, the Security Services, and prevent a diplomatic meltdown? (Rated M, Harry/Ruth.)
1. Chapter 1

I do not own Spooks in any way, shape, or form imaginable. My imagination (though wild and wily) is my own, however, and that is what fanfiction is for.

This is the sequel to (in chronological order) Breathe Me and Chandelier. It will be rated M for adult language and sexuality, and, ya know, my own stupidity. (If you hadn't been able to tell, I'm borrowing titles from songs from Sia's albums. Because Sia is my spirit animal.)

* * *

><p>Fire Meet Gasoline<br>by ScintillatingTart  
>November 2014 – December 2014<p>

* * *

><p>One:<br>Secrets and Lies

He just stood there, briefcase in hand, gloves still on, trenchcoat still wrapped around his broad shoulders. "Ruth, I haven't the energy for –"

"How could you?" Ruth hissed. The betrayal was so fresh, so strong, she could taste it like blood in her mouth. "You are a liar and a fraud and – and I hate you. Get out of my house. _GET OUT_."

He stared at her, face completely blank. "Ruth, I have no idea what you're on about, but I've had a very hard day and coyly playing oblique games with me isn't helping. You'll have to enlighten me as to what you're referring? Was it maybe the not putting laundry in the dryer this morning when I did my wash? Or was it forgetting to acquire more toothpaste or put it on the list?"

"Carole," she said, her tone clipped and distinct, the syllable leaving her lips with such fury and derision that he winced. "Am I just supposed to pretend to be happy when your bloody mistress shows up on my doorstep?"

He dropped the briefcase. "She came here?" Harry said.

"Yes! How bloody else was she going to get a message to you?" Ruth shot back.

"A phone like normal people?" Harry said, rolling his eyes and sighing. "Ruth, god, I'm so sorry – this is all a massive cock-up. You've completely got the wrong end of the stick here, and I'm afraid it's my fault."

"Oh, I've got the wrong end?" Ruth challenged. "Doesn't bloody look like it from here. Get out, Harry. Get out of my house –"

"My father died," Harry said, his shoulder's slumping in defeat. "That's what the message was about. Carole is not my mistress – god, how could you even think it, Ruth? Carole isn't my mistress, nor would I ever touch her in that way. Carole is my sister; she's been caring for my father."

"You don't have a bloody sister," Ruth hissed. "Nice try, though – I give you points for creativity. Now get your things and get out."

"I swear," Harry said quietly, "Carole Thwaite is my sister. It's complicated. Every bloody part of my life is complicated, Ruth."

She was hanging on a thread; half of her wanted to believe him, hear out his explanation, while the other half was listening to that soft niggling voice in the back of her brain. Finally, she just whispered, "You never said you had a sister."

"We're not exactly on Christmas card terms; more like… the occasional phone call but otherwise, neither of us exist to the other," Harry said. "My dad was Army. He was stationed in South Korea before the Korean Conflict in the early 50's. He married a woman named Hae-Won Cho, and they had two children together – Julian and Carole. Hae-Won died in childbirth, and her parents refused to allow my father to bring Julian and Carole back to the United Kingdom when he was wounded in the conflict and removed from service." He sighed. "He came back to England, without his wife, and without his children, and fell into a suicidal depression. He met my mum in A&E. He drank too much and hit his head, so my Gran took him in. Mum broke her finger and was waiting to go in for x-rays. They got to chatting and…" He shrugged. "Neither here nor there, now."

Ruth was quiet for a long moment, then said, "It's not in your family history – the one in your file."

"It wasn't something I knew about until after I joined the Service," Harry sighed. "Dad didn't tell me. Carole married the Undersecretary to the British Ambassador to South Korea in 1972, and came over to the UK when he was recalled to advise the PM. She renounced her Korean citizenship. Julian renounced his British citizenship after attending Cambridge with Honors, and is currently serving as the South Korean Minister of Defense." His face was unreadable.

It was all so plausible, so real… but it could just have been an elaborate legend. God knew she hadn't even met James Arthur Pearce when he was alive. She wouldn't know the difference, would she? All she'd known was that Harry's younger brother, Ben, was dead, and his mum, too.

"Ruth, please," he said very quietly. "I wouldn't lie about this. It's been a headache for my clearances and things for years. It's off the books, but fairly common knowledge to those who need to know. Why do you think Section B always took over anything to do with Korea when I was head of D?"

"Because we're overworked and underpaid," Ruth said automatically.

He exhaled. "Because they feared I would do something stupid – because my brother, who I've never met in my bloody life, is a high-ranking member of the South Korean government. So, no, I'm not carrying on a bloody torrid affair with Carole Thwaite – and she booked a hotel suite in Mayfair so we might discuss the funeral arrangements in private. She knows I'll send someone in to remove the bugs first, so we might speak undisturbed." He gave Ruth a sad smile. "I hope you'll join us. Please."

"Why would I join you? I don't know your father – you never gave me a chance to know him," Ruth said sharply.

"No, maybe not," Harry said, "but you know me. And you know that I am… a bit… stubborn."

"Understatement," she muttered.

"And Carole is much the same way," Harry finished. "You might... feel less threatened if you were to be in the room, watching us battle over funerary hymns and whether or not to allow flowers."

She fell silent, hesitating for a long moment, still at war with the voices in her head. "I hate you so much," Ruth whispered. "I hate you because I don't know if you're lying or telling the truth right now, and it breaks my heart that you could even – that you could even put me in that situation after everything we've been through."

He held his hand out, palm up. "Ruth, Carole is my sister. My father died this morning from organ failure, brought on by liver cancer. I was faxed a copy of the autopsy results earlier today. It's in my briefcase. Please believe me when I say that I regret keeping things from you like this, but I thought it was the right thing to do at the time."

"You always think it's the right thing," she said sadly. "Always. To shut me out. To pretend that I don't care about you when I do – more than anything, I care about you, Harry." She frowned and held back, still unsure.

He sighed softly. "I promise you, Ruth… I will do better."

She hesitated another moment, then took his hand. "This doesn't mean you're forgiven," she said very quickly. "Only that I'm calling an interregnum until I can establish that you're not a lying, cheating bastard."

He sighed. "I hate that you don't trust me."

"Your track record," she pointed out, "is less than exemplary."

"Am I at least allowed in our bed?" he asked. "I'm really quite tired and need to know."

Ruth sighed. "You can sleep in the bed. I'll sleep in the sitting room."

"No, Ruth –"

"Look, you just pipe down," she said, wagging her finger at him. "And you stand over there in your wrongness and be wrong and get bloody used to it. Good night."

With that, she went to the sitting room and flopped onto the sofa.

Much later, she was woken out of a sound sleep by Harry joining her on the sofa. She only woke up long enough to shift so she was lying on top of him, then she went back to sleep.

* * *

><p>Harry didn't go to work the next morning; he canceled his appointments and made certain that the Deputy Director would take over for him for the next few days, due to bereavement leave. Ruth found herself wondering if this was his normal reaction to familial grief…<p>

They left for the hotel about eleven and checked in. Harry texted the room number to Carole and he led Ruth up to the suite. They were only waiting a few minutes before there was a knock on the door. Harry opened the door and let Carole and Lionel Thwaite into the suite.

"I took the liberty of speaking to the concierge and arranging champagne and sandwiches to be brought up shortly," Lionel said, shaking Harry's hand. "Bloody shame we have to sneak off in order to make arrangements, isn't it?"

"Yes," Harry agreed crisply. Ruth could tell immediately that her husband disliked his brother-in-law intensely, but tried to remain civil about it. He gingerly embraced Carole and kissed her awkwardly on the cheek. "Carole, I'm so sorry –"

"I knew it was coming," Carole said. "But that doesn't make it any easier to live with, Harry. I apologize for all of the secrecy in arranging today, but you did request –"

"I requested evasive tactics, not frightening my wife into thinking I was having an affair," Harry scolded. "Carole, you've met Ruth already – Ruth, this is Carole Thwaite, my sister, and her husband, Sir Lionel Thwaite. Lionel, my wife – Ruth."

Lionel looked her up and down, and smiled broadly before extending a hand. "You're a damn sight nicer than Jane," he commented dryly.

Ruth took his hand and shook it, still unsure where she fit in the hierarchy of this newfound family. She looked to Harry for guidance, but he was no help at all. Carole shook her hand as well, and said, "It's a pleasure, Ruth. I just wish it were under better circumstances."

"I… didn't know that Harry had a sister," Ruth said, the words sounding alien to her ears.

Carole rounded on Harry and smacked him with her clutch. "You no good so-and-so," she scolded. "All the time you spend at my house and your wife didn't even know who I was when I arrived on your doorstep? You arse."

"In my defense?" Harry began.

"No defense," Ruth interjected, putting an end to that madness before it had a chance to begin.

"I like her," Carole said. "She's not afraid to tell you to sod off."

Harry rolled his eyes and said, "Shall we begin, then? Dad always wanted Glenn Miller playing –"

"God, don't remind me," Carole sighed, sinking onto one of the sofas with a frown. "Can't we find something just a little less… jazzy?"

"We could, but why?" Harry asked. "He wanted it."

"No offense intended, but he was also suffering dementia and his memory was locked on 1952," Lionel spoke up.

"Are we really going to fight over the music?" Harry asked, annoyed.

Carole gave him an equally annoyed look, and Ruth immediately saw the family resemblance. There was no denying it any longer; she felt horribly guilty, then.

Several hours later, they'd planned out the last details and Carole said, "You do know that Julian will be coming, don't you?"

That gave Harry pause. "Why on earth would he be coming to our father's funeral when he's rejected everything about British culture?"

"Because he was our father," Carole said, her voice tinged with sadness and weariness like she was addressing a toddler. "And he has very fond memories of him. Not to mention, he was coming anyway for the economic summit and talks. This is just incentive for him to arrive early."

"Bloody hell," Harry grunted. He glanced over at Ruth, and she shrugged and raised a brow. "Well, I'll just have to have a word with someone, then –"

"Oh, it's already been arranged through the PM," Lionel said cheerfully. "He's spoken to the Home Secretary about the security arrangements and such… no need to trouble you, Harry."

A muscle in Harry's jaw twitched, and Ruth knew right then exactly why the two didn't get along.

"Harry," Carole said, "of course you must bring your children and their families –"

Ruth spoke up and said, "Yes, of course. Harry, love, we need to get going if we're going to make it to your appointment."

He looked confused for a brief moment, then said, "Ah, yes, I'm sorry – we do need to dash, actually. It's been… good… to see you both. And I will see you on Monday to arrange the catering, Carole." He got his jacket and they beat a hasty retreat, leaving the in-laws to foot the hotel bill.

Once in the car, Ruth sighed. "I suppose I see why we're not even on Christmas card terms, then. Lionel Thwaite is an insufferable twat."

"He was looking down your blouse most of the time," Harry said.

"Yes, I am aware. I didn't want to slap him and alienate your sister," Ruth sighed. "Bloody hell, Harry…"

"Am I forgiven now?" he asked, slightly anxious in tone.

"With interest," Ruth replied. "I just – god. Seriously?"

Harry nodded. "And there was no communication of any type about Julian attending the economic summit," he said.

"Maybe not across your desk, but obviously across the desks of others," Ruth sighed.

"It's my job to provide security to –"

"Apparently not," Ruth said, gently resting her hand on his knee as he drove. "Harry, it will be all right. I promise. I'm sorry I was such a…"

He shook his head. "No, I understand where you were coming from. I just… I wasn't in my right mind last night, and obviously, neither was she."

The rest of the drive home was silent.

END PART ONE


	2. Chapter 2

Two:  
>Before the Storm<p>

Harry didn't go to work on Saturday or Sunday, and Ruth found herself more than slightly discomfited by the thought that he was grieving in a way she'd never thought him capable of. He was very quiet, playing with Jamie and Emma like normal, but not acknowledging Ruth, Malcolm, or Elizabeth – or the older children. For the first time in months, Ruth had called Catherine and canceled their Sunday family time – simply because Harry wasn't up to it.

Which is how, at six o'clock on Sunday afternoon, Ruth and Harry came to be sat on a bench in the park, Scarlett scampering around on her lead.

"Harry," she said very softly, "we need to talk."

"I don't want to talk."

"Then what do you want?" she asked.

He sighed and said, "They want to bring you in early, cut your leave short, with the summit on the horizon. My call with the Foreign Secretary this morning was full of ultimatums and threats." He ran his hand over his face and sighed again. "I've been trying to avoid having to put it on your plate like that."

She shrugged. "So I'll go back tomorrow, then. Doesn't matter. What does matter is that you're upset and unwell and –"

"I'm fine," Harry said. "Fine as I can be."

"And there you go, shutting me out again," she said softly. "Harry…"

He exhaled and said, "Not only did I not know that Julian is coming to this economic summit, we're apparently in the process of brokering a deal of some kind with the Russians. I'm being shunted on both accounts at the moment – and I need you back in a position to work an angle if needs must, Ruth."

She paused. "All right. Anything else you want to tell me?"

He glanced over at her and sighed. "I love you and I'm sorry for being a sullen bear."

She wrapped her arm around his waist and leaned against him. "You're acting like a child who's just had his toys taken away," Ruth murmured. "There are times when they will freeze you out, Harry. That's just the way it is. It's politics at its worst."

"Are you cross about having to go back earlier than planned?"

"No," she said, honestly. "There are only so many times I can clean the floors before I lose my mind."

"Nice to know you still had a mind to lose," Harry teased gently.

She squeezed his hand and said, "Do you need me in the catering meeting tomorrow?"

"No," he said, "we just have to go down a list and tick off what we want served at the wake."

Scarlett barked at another dog that passed by on another lead, and the much larger dog growled. Scarlett slunk back to them and rose up to paw at Harry's leg. "Are you all funned out?" Harry asked the dog. "Time to go home?"

"Harry, we're all worried about you," Ruth said softly.

"I'm fine," he answered automatically. "I'll be fine until the funeral. Then you can be concerned."

* * *

><p>"I am so glad to see you, Ruth," Erin said, rising from the chair in what was now Ruth's office. "We've got the Russian delegation arriving today though the summit isn't until a week from today. The South Korean delegation will be arriving tomorrow, and the others will be trickling in over the next few days. All of them come with a list of known threats in the UK against persons on their team, and, quite frankly, we're up to our eyeballs. There was a credible threat of a bomb in Kensington this morning; Dimitri and Beth are out on that."<p>

"Nothing like getting dumped right into the deep end," Ruth said with a tight smile.

"Like I said, I'm quite glad you're back – the Home Secretary wants you at Whitehall at ten, and the Foreign Secretary at noon," Erin said. "The details about the meetings are on your tablet."

"When did we get tablets?" Ruth asked, eyebrows rising.

"Hermione had them requisitioned for us last week, at Sir Harry's behest," Erin said. "Makes it much easier to transmit data outside the office. All my notes for your meetings are collated already, you just need to read them."

"Oh, good, another device to lose," Ruth sighed.

"How is he? Sir Harry, I mean," Erin asked.

Ruth swallowed and said, "He's… fine. It will be better after the funeral, I think, but for now, he's bucking up."

"It's hard to lose a parent," Erin said.

"Yes," Ruth agreed, "it is." She smiled a little, then said, "I'll be in for the briefing at nine. Make sure as many people are there as possible, please – and thank you."

Erin retreated and Ruth went to work reading files; she was glad of the note-taking software that was installed on the tablet, because she added even more salient details to the files. The phone rang and she grabbed for it. "Evershed," she said; for even in all the madness, she was still Ruth Evershed to HR.

"Good morning," Harry said. "I hear you're in for it this morning."

"I've just had a text that Beth and Dimitri are on their way back," Ruth said, "with two would-be-bombers apprehended. So there's one thing I don't have to worry about."

"I'll pick you up for Whitehall," Harry said. "We're in the same meetings."

"No, it's all right," she interjected.

"Ruth, don't argue. I'll come down to the Grid about nine-thirty."

"Fine," she said. "We'll be finishing the briefing then."

"You've heard about the Russians?" Harry asked.

"Arriving today? Yes," Ruth said softly, still tapping through the file, annotating. "Seems they're sending Ilya Gavrik and Anatoly Zbarov; that will make for some interesting conversation around the negotiating table."

There was silence. "Gavrik?" Harry echoed.

"Yes – wait, did you not get the Home Office communiqué number Alpha Gamma 743?" She said. "No, wait, Alpha Delta Gamma 743, I'm sorry – it's a list of attendees of the economic summit."

"No," Harry said in an annoyed tone, "I have not received that memo. And I will be having words with the Foreign Secretary later."

"Harry…"

"I am the Director General of MI-5, not some child whose hands need to be bound so he doesn't get into the sweeties," Harry snapped. "I need to be informed, even if I am not involved in the decisions being made, so that I can prepare my teams adequately –"

"Harry. Breathe," Ruth insisted. "Go take a moment and breathe. I'll see you later."

She hung up the phone and went back to work. It wasn't much longer when she heard a whoop and a holler from Dimitri; Ruth got up and stepped out of the office and laughed as he swooped her up off the floor and twirled her around. "Hello, Evershed!" he exclaimed. "Now we've got a proper lady in the hot seat who can keep the DG off our asses."

"Dimitri, put me down," Ruth laughed. He did as she requested, then she smacked him on the shoulder. "Be good; though, I am glad to see you all, as well. It's been rather boring at home."

"I shouldn't wonder," Dimitri replied. "I'll just go do my report up and when's the briefing?"

"Nine," Ruth replied, waving to Beth, who looked rather chuffed she was there.

Erin said, "Ruth, Harry just called to say he won't be able to make his meeting with Carole Thwaite at noon, and asks if you'll go instead."

"Yes, of course," Ruth said automatically. "Because it stacks with the meeting with the Foreign Secretary, and Harry needs to be in on that. Can you get the details and send them to my phone?"

"Yes," Erin replied.

A few moments later, Ruth felt a buzzing in her blazer pocket, and she glanced at the message from Erin before nodding. "I'll need a driver to pick me up from Whitehall," she said.

"And a security officer," Tariq added unhelpfully. "Can't believe they haven't saddled you with one, yet."

"Oi, cheeky boy, shut it," Calum said, tossing something across the way.

"When did we start resembling a circus rather than the Anti-Terrorism Unit?" Ruth inquired.

Erin cleared her throat. "I've been a bit lax in laying down the law."

"Briefing at nine," Ruth said loudly, getting everyone's attention. "Conference room. Bring in all the threat assessments for the week and where we are on researching them. Thank you."

* * *

><p>The briefing ran over a few minutes, and as such, Harry burst into the conference room. "Ms. Evershed, the car is waiting," Harry said, his voice tinged with annoyance as he tapped the face of his watch.<p>

"Bloody hell," Ruth muttered under her breath. Raising her voice, she said, "I expect your reports on my desk by the time I return. Tariq, liaise with Section B about coordinating surveillance on the Russian hotel, and Section C about the South Korean delegation's accommodations. If you need me, redflash me. I should be back no later than two."

She got her purse, tablet, and briefcase full of physical files from the office and met Harry near the pods. "Sorry, got a bit carried away in there," Ruth apologized.

Harry gave her a Look, and gestured for her to go through the pods first. They were met by two security officers on the far side of the door. "Ruth, this is Bruce – he'll be your security from here on out. And you know Peter already," he said. "And now we must away in a hurry to Whitehall before we both get our arses chewed out by Towers."

The short drive to Whitehall was tense, but Ruth and Harry found time (and quiet reserves of energy and strength) to gently tap out messages in Morse code onto the back of one another's hands. Messages that their security officers would never know had existed, as it just looked like a husband and wife holding hands and fidgeting in the back seat. Of course, now, they were the worst kept secret in the Security Services, and even HR was getting in on the 'please can we change your name now' train – as Ruth had already taken two calls about it that morning alone. Maybe it was good for publicity? Who knew. All she knew was that, within the span of two days, she would be answering to Lady Pearce within the corridors of Thames House and Whitehall, and it didn't upset her in the slightest.

Nor did it seem to disappoint Harry, who had a tiny smile on his lips once she'd told him in Morse. In fact, he looked quite smug about it. It was probably him, calling down to that dreadful Langham lady and making a fuss in the first place what had caused it!

They arrived and were bustled inside. She had been through the hallowed halls of the Home Office before, but never with the intent of a meeting with the Home Secretary. This was new, untouched ground.

"We must hurry," Harry said with a frown. "Towers doesn't like being kept waiting, even if he is the one that is late; which is ofttimes the case."

Ruth nodded her agreement and checked the wifi on her tablet as they walked, making sure she had the optimal signal strength; it wouldn't do for it to go down whilst in the middle of the meeting. Harry seemed to sense her slight case of nerves and reached down to squeeze her hand briefly. He smiled when she glanced up at him, and she returned the smile. "By the by, I've got a hard copy of the memo that you didn't receive," she murmured. "Read it, memorize it, and lose it."

"Have I mentioned yet this morning that I love you?" he whispered low and into her ear as she slipped the folded sheet of paper into his pocket under the pretext of a kiss. To anyone else, it would look like a very private moment between them between meetings; and it would block the view of the CCTV cameras for just a brief moment.

"No, but I could stand to hear it again this afternoon," she teased softly as they continued walking. They stopped at the door to the Home Secretary's office, and Harry knocked.

"Yes, yes, come in," Towers bellowed. When they stepped through the doors, he was on the phone and merely made a gesture for them to come closer. "Yes, Kent, it is quite a conundrum – one that I will be passing on to Five to sort. Yes. I've got Sir Harry and Ms. Evershed now, so… Thank you. Goodbye." He hung up the phone and sat down. "Bloody Six has had me up and pacing since I got here; please tell me that you're bringing decent news, Harry, or I'll be forced to take action."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "We don't even get the offer of a cup of tea, William?"

Ruth stifled a chuckle and sat down when Towers gestured at the guest chairs. Towers gave Harry a dirty look, then said, "Yes, of course, tea – how do you take it, Ms. Evershed?"

"Earl Grey, splash of milk," Ruth said, "no sugar, please."

"And you know mine," Harry said.

"Black assam, enough sugar the spoon supports itself," Towers said. He buzzed his assistant. "Nancy, I need Sir Harry's usual tea, my usual tea, and an Earl Grey with a splash of milk, please, for Ms. Evershed." He sat down and eyed them. "Now… on to business. Tell me about the bomb this morning."

Ruth launched into a cursory explanation of the operation, and how they were dealing with the suspected bombers. Towers watched her tick off all the little boxes on her report, and then smile. "And," she added, "we've got the apparatus intact, so we can add the dimensions and signature of this particular bombmaker to our database without loss of life."

"A successful morning, then," Towers said.

"We're going over the current threat assessments in order to sort the wheat from the chaff," Ruth said. "It's been kind of dumbed down since I was in charge of writing the assessments, so the intention is to not pad the numbers when we do have rather a lot of threats that do interconnect and supercede one another."

Towers smiled over at Harry and said, "I can see why you promoted her." He paused. "And why you married her."

"Rather less efficient at home, but endearing nonetheless," Harry commented dryly. "William," he added, "our home life is not up for discussion. We might be married, but as you can see, Ruth is a very able and capable head to Section D even after a few hours."

"I never said she wasn't," Towers muttered.

"Excuse me, but I am sitting right here," Ruth said, "and I'm feeling a bit miffed that my tea isn't here yet, seeing as how I have to run to another meeting soon."

"Always with the slow tea," Harry sighed. "You'll get used to it, Ruth."

"Bloody tea," Towers said. "Now, Harry, will you allow me to extend to you my condolences on your father's passing?"

"Thank you, William," Harry said, and that was that. The line of inquiry was done before it had even begun.

Ruth glanced at her watch and said, "Harry, I do need to leave."

"Yes, well… I will have our meeting for tomorrow arranged," Towers said.

"By phone, please," Ruth said. "I can't be jaunting off to Whitehall every morning when I'm needed on the Grid."

"Well, I'll give you this, Ms. Evershed –"

"Lady Pearce, if you please," Ruth contradicted sweetly.

"You have balls," Towers said.

Ruth paused. She glanced first at Harry, then back at the Home Secretary. "You have no idea, Home Secretary," she said, holding back a smug smile when Harry made a choking noise.

END PART TWO


	3. Chapter 3

Three:  
>Sisters of a Persuasion<p>

Ruth slid into her seat across from Carole. "Harry is in a meeting with the Foreign Secretary," she said, her voice a study in careful control. "He asked me to come."

"I just need a list of sandwiches and things that your family will eat," Carole said. "I took the liberty of ordering some hummus and pita for starters – Harry hates it."

Ruth frowned. "Being antagonistic will get you nowhere with him," she pointed out. "As I'm sure you've discovered. And I love hummus and pita, for the record, so thank you for that." She looked Carole up and down, taking in her expensive, tailored suit, her diamond and gold jewelry, her perfect makeup and hair… and Ruth found herself wondering how someone who cultivated such a perfect image could be so bloody miserable behind the curtain.

"Harry and I don't get along as well as maybe we should," Carole commented wryly. "But I suppose you've already heard his side of the story."

"Actually," Ruth said, picking up her menu and peering at it, "he hasn't exactly shared. And, really, it's water under the bridge, I'd say, at this point."

"Well, we don't know anything about each other," Carole said. "Maybe we should share a bit."

Ruth pursed her lips together and tried to decide if she wanted something upmarket or simple for lunch. "Not much to tell, really," she said. "Harry and I have been married for seven years, and we've got six children between us – including the lovely little girl we were named guardians of." She glanced up at Carole. "I went to Oxford, same as Harry."

"I know about Catherine and Graham," Carole said dismissively.

"I've got three of my own," Ruth commented. "And then Emma. Of course, being a grandmum is just as rewarding as –"

"You mean to tell me one of Harry's children had the gall to spawn?" Carole said with a sneer on her lip. "Which one?"

"Well, very soon, it will be Graham," Ruth said. "They're expecting their second daughter."

"Bloody hell."

"And Catherine has one of each."

The waitress came by and they ordered food before settling into kind of an appraising silence. Carole was the first to break it. "And how are they finding parenthood, then?"

Ruth shrugged. "It's a crap shoot," she said, "which is understandable, normal, really."

"Well, yes, but considering that they're Jane's children, I'm sure it's all the more difficult. That woman has less sense than…" Carole stopped herself, and said, "But you don't want to hear about Jane, do you. I'm sure you've had a look at my file."

"Actually… not as such, no," Ruth admitted. "I've had a rather busy morning. First day back at work and such after a leave of absence."

"Ah," Carole said knowingly. "Well, I'll save you the trouble – I was born in 1952, and my mother died giving birth to me. I was raised by my grandparents, went to an excellent school, graduated and took a job as a secretary with a South Korean oil company. I met Lionel at a party in January of 1970, and we were married in May. Our daughter, Gemma, was born in 1974, after Lionel was recalled to London. I was forced to give up my Korean citizenship when he was promoted in 1973, and I have been loyal to the Crown ever since." Carole smiled wanly. "I met my father in 1972, and Harry not long afterward. For the record, Fiona – Harry's mother – was a lovely woman and she did her best to make us feel a part of the family. She would have liked you, Ruth, the way you steady him and slow him down from jumping off the cliff too soon."

Ruth smiled a little, then. "Yes, well, he is rather impetuous, isn't he? Very passionate and when he gets things in his head, it's a bit of that leaping before you look, isn't it?"

Carole smiled tightly. "We were a family, of a kind," she said. "Then Harry married Jane and everything began to fall apart at the seams." She fell silent as the waiter brought their hummus.

"Jane seems to be a sticking point," Ruth commented dryly. "I never met the woman, nor do I want to. Which is a ridiculous thing to be saying, seeing as how she's dead."

"I'm glad of it," Carole said, her tone full of blunt honesty. "She wasn't exactly the innocent everyone pretends to see in her. You, at least, have some sense, from what I've seen."

Ruth nodded and swiped up some hummus with a piece of pita. "Yes, well, I try," she commented dryly.

Carole sighed. "You see… Jane and Lionel… they were carrying on. Had a torrid, long affair. We used to be close, Harry and I, but…" She took a bite of food and chewed for a long time, then swallowed. Ruth just watched her for any signs of deceit, but she saw none. "Lionel and Jane met at the wedding reception," she said. "I was the matron of honor, but Lionel didn't care, wanted nothing to do with the wedding or anything, till he met that bloody woman. Somehow, it didn't matter that they were both married, or that they knew it would cause issues… no, no, they had to go ahead."

"Did you know?" Ruth asked.

Carole affixed her with an annoyed look, as if she were utterly stupid. "Of course I knew. The problem was that I couldn't let on that I knew; if I divorced him, I would have had nothing. I had a daughter to raise – Gemma, she's about your age – and I kept quiet rather than to face the reality of what was happening. Which is how Harry came to despise me. When he found out I knew about the affair and had kept my mouth shut… he was incensed. For obvious reasons."

"Blood is thicker than water, though," Ruth said softly. "And you've begun to get close again –"

"Only since that bloody woman died," Carole sighed. "Lionel hates me; Harry still thinks I'm a dreadful person. And maybe I am. I don't love my husband; I never did. He was a convenient way to get out of Korea and away from my grandparents. But it seems like too much effort to end it now."

"You're not a dreadful person," Ruth said softly. She smiled sadly. "I've been where you are, and where Jane was."

"You're a homewrecker?" Carole scoffed.

"The only home I wrecked was my own," Ruth murmured. "I was married before Harry, to a stock trader named Gareth. We were comfortable, but not happy, and we had Rose." She shrugged. "Long story short, I met Harry, we had a lovely time, and came out the other side with my Daisy. But Harry was long gone by the time I knew I was pregnant, and Gareth put me in the corner and everything became so much worse." She shrugged again. Everything seemed much simpler now that it was past, though the pain and the suffering were still there below the surface. "I finally got the nerve to divorce Gareth and took a transfer to London, where I met Harry again. And everything got so much better."

"He loves you dearly," Carole said, her tone wistful. "I confess to being quite jealous."

Ruth smiled just a little. "It's not all wine and roses," she said. "Work and the kids –"

"Yes, but you've got a partner in Harry. I only had my father, and he didn't even know who I was, not really. Always called me my mother's name. Not that I'm surprised, but…" Carole sighed and glanced away. "Misery loves company," she said, laughing a little. "So, anyway… yes. We should probably talk about what food we'll be serving at the wake and after the funeral so I can get the list to the caterer."

"Harry is most insistent on egg salad," Ruth sighed.

"Yes, I knew he would be – it's on the list. Gemma wants cucumber and Brie, so that's also on the list. Anything your kids won't eat?"

"No, they'll try anything at least once; Jamie is quite fond of ham salad, though." Ruth paused, then said, "I hope you didn't take offense at me baring my heart to you. I just wanted you to know that I understand both sides. And that you're not the haughty twat I thought you were."

Carole's lips twitched into a smile. "You're not naive, Ruth – I'll give you that," she said. "And I think Harry is right to care for you. You're nothing like Jane. Thank god." She paused. "I think, honestly, that had Lionel and Jane met before we were married, they would have been very happy together. As it stands… he's left pretending that he didn't care for her, and Harry and I are left pretending that neither of us were slapped by the betrayal."

Ruth smiled sadly. "Yes," she said softly. "But Harry's letting you back into his life. So take this chance, and don't cock it up."

* * *

><p>Ruth settled into her office and sighed, reaching for the phone. Harry picked up immediately. "Hello," he said.<p>

"Your precious egg salad is on the list," she said softly.

"Oh, thank god," Harry sighed. "I hope Carole didn't upset you too much –"

"No, not at all," Ruth said. "She's a lovely person, once you get past all the walls. I think it's something you Pearces do well – emotional guard walls, high enough that no one can scale them." She paused. "She told me about Jane, Harry. I'm sorry."

"You didn't need to know," he said simply. "It was long past. I just… didn't know how to forgive Carole for her part. So I didn't. I couldn't, until after Jane died."

"I understand," she said softly. "She doesn't love Lionel, Harry. She just stays with him because she doesn't know any different. Like me and Gareth." Ruth sighed and rubbed her right temple. "Anyway, I just wanted you to know that lunch went well. And I'll see you at home later."

There was a long silence, then he said, very softly, almost inaudibly, "Ruth, I love you. Always have done."

"And I you," she murmured. "But now, back to the mines, love."

END PART THREE


	4. Chapter 4

Four:  
>Unsaid, Unseen, Unheard<p>

"I've got to finish my inbox," Harry said apologetically down the phone line. "So I can take tomorrow off properly for the funeral."

"Yes, of course," Ruth said softly. "Do you want help or…?"

"No, it's all classified bunk," he muttered with a sigh. "And most of it is to do with the arrival of the Cousins and the rest of the EU on Monday. Did you find a dress for the reception?"

"I've not had a chance to go look," Ruth said, frowning. "Besides, I'm meant to be wearing a wire and supervising security, not swanning about with the DG."

"You still have to appear like you're meant to be there."

"Can't I just wear the gown I wore to the Queen's party?" Ruth said. "I really don't have the time to go hunting something new –"

"Send Beth or Erin out for it," Harry advised. "Or give me your size and color request, and I can send Hermione out."

"Bloody hell, Harry, she's your assistant, not my personal shopper –"

"She's my assistant and she's meant to assist," Harry pointed out. "Tell me your size and what color, and I'll have her do it while we're off-duty tomorrow."

"Oh, fine," Ruth sighed. She listed off her size, the colors she would prefer, and generalities like no plunging necklines or backless, skin-tight models, and so on. She paused, then added, "And I suppose shoes to match. I've got jewelry and formal handbags to go with anything those colors."

"You certainly do," he said wryly.

"Watch it, now," she said. "Be good."

"I'll wait to see what Hermione picks in case I need to get the pearls from the safety deposit box," Harry added. "Will you need any new makeup or –"

"No, I'm fine, or I can borrow a lippie from Rose or Daisy," Ruth replied. "I just don't relish the idea of going to a party so soon after a funeral."

There was silence, and he said, "You and the children shouldn't go to the funeral. You didn't know my father. I'm sorry I've –"

"Stop kicking yourself," she murmured. "We're going because we love you and we are your family, just as much as your dad was. So stop being stubborn. Please, for me?"

He sighed. "Yes, of course, for you – always, for you," Harry said softly. "You'd best get home and check on the littles, my love. Give Emma and Jamie kisses from me, please."

"Of course," she replied. "Harry… please promise you'll wake me when you get home, if I'm asleep."

"You need your rest," he said.

"Yes, but we need to talk, too."

He sighed. "Tomorrow," he promised.

She gritted her teeth; there wouldn't be time tomorrow. "Fine," she said curtly. "I'll make sure there's dinner waiting for you –"

"I am capable of making beans on toast," he pointed out.

"I know you're capable of making beans on toast, but there's real food to be had, too, Harry," she said, completely frustrated with him. "Why are you being so god damned unreasonable?"

The only response was dead air.

The stupid old man had actually hung up on her!

It took a minute for her to process that, quell her rage, and set the phone back onto its cradle. By then, she'd subconsciously decided that if he wanted to act like a prat, he could damn well do it without her involvement.

As she was getting ready to leave, Malcolm texted to remind her that he was taking Emma and Jamie to the children's playhouse for Paddington Bear, and that dinner was in the oven. Which meant he would be taking the little ones for sweeties on their way home, and that Daisy was in charge of finishing her schoolwork and getting dinner out of the oven.

The drive home was tedious; she scrolled through the news headlines on her phone. Smartphones were becoming more prevalent, and she was loving every minute of being able to ease between normal things on her phone like calling, texting, etc., and things like reading the news. If this is where the future was headed, she was happy with it. Yes, Ruth knew that it could and would be exploited, sometimes for the greater good and others not, but it came in very handy at times.

Bruce walked her to the front door and hovered until she was inside. Such was the norm, now. Ruth sighed and kicked off her heels, preferring to roam the house in stocking feet. "Hello, love! What did Malcolm make for dinner?" she called out as she picked up a few stray toys that had made it into the entryway. When Daisy didn't answer, she shouted, "Margaret Eloise?"

There was a murmuring in the kitchen; Ruth's senses went on immediate alert. She took a couple of steps toward the kitchen, and Daisy suddenly said, "Roasted vegetable curry, mummy."

Ruth took a few more steps toward the kitchen, then stopped. "That sounds lovely, dear heart," she said, knowing that something was terribly wrong. She didn't know what, but it was so very, very wrong. Once she entered the kitchen, she saw in its full entirety that her instincts were bang on the money. She took in the young man with a gun pointed at her daughter's head, took in that if he chose to fire, there would be nothing she could do, and then she said, "What the hell do you think you're playing at?"

"Where is Harry Pearce?"

"Bloody well not here, as I think you've realized by now," Ruth said sharply. "Let her go, Sasha. She's a child."

"I was a child," Sasha Gavrik countered angrily. "How do you think it feels to find out that my mother was spying for the west all of this time?"

"She hasn't been," Ruth said firmly. "She was burned in 1982. She was not a reliable asset."

"What do you know about it?" he hissed.

"Everything," Ruth snapped. "Now stop pointing a gun at my daughter's head and we'll talk. Otherwise, you can go straight to hell." The calm boldness seeped through her veins like a drug; everything was out of her hands now, and until she gave him what he wanted, she knew that she and Daisy were both in dire straits.

Her quiet authority was enough, it seemed; Sasha removed the gun from Daisy's temple and pointed it at Ruth instead. "You are Lady Pearce, correct?"

"Correct," she said firmly. "I work for MI-5, same as Sir Harry. I know what happened, Sasha, just as I know that Harry is not your biological father." The young man's eyes lit up in surprise, and he held Daisy roughly around the shoulders, his arm around her neck. "Please don't hurt her," Ruth said very quietly. "She has nothing to do with what you came here to say."

"I will only say it to_ him_," Sasha growled.

Ruth held up one hand, then fished in her pocket for her phone. She held it up, and said, "Harry won't take kindly to you threatening his daughter."

"Well, then, how about I shoot her instead? It will make my point far more clearly than this nonsense," Sasha growled.

Ruth started toward him, but stopped when his hold on Daisy tightened, and her breathing became labored. She took those steps back, and dialed the phone. "Plum-xi-alpha-four-six-blizzard," she said very quickly.

"Yes?" Harry snapped. "This better be good or I am sending someone to the Shetlands to investigate whether or not it's feasible to create a station up there –"

"Harry," Ruth said very quickly, "we have a visitor who will only speak to you. He currently has one arm around Margaret's neck and he's pointing a gun at me."

"What? Who?"

"A young FSB officer," Ruth said. "I'm going to put you on speaker." She hit a button and said, "Go ahead, Sasha."

Sasha's eyes were wild, feral, and she knew if Harry said the wrong thing, both she and Daisy were dead. She didn't wish that Harry was there, god no, but she did wish that he had sense enough not to exacerbate the situation.

"My mother isn't spying for you any longer," Sasha barked out. "Call off your dogs and do _not_ contact her again, Pearce."

"I haven't contacted Elena," Harry said. "And I shan't be contacting her; any contact between us will be purely professional and in front of witnesses. You have my word, Sasha. There is a reason she has not had contact with anyone from Five or Six since 1984: she is not a reliable asset. Let go of my daughter. Now."

"She has received communiqués from you –"

"No," Harry said firmly, "she has not. If you have them on your person, give them to my wife. If you do not, we will have to meet in order for you to give them to us. No one has made contact with your mother in almost thirty years, Sasha. You must believe me: I would not jeopardize this summit for anything so trivial as an old flame being in town."

"So trivial?" Sasha laughed. He aimed the gun straight at Ruth and fired. She let loose a shocked cry, feeling the bullet whiz past her, a scant few centimeters from her face – so close she could feel the heat as it flew by – and bury itself in the wall. "It is not trivial, Pearce. You know that you are my father –"

"I am not your father," Harry shouted. "Ruth, are you –"

"I'm fine," Ruth choked out, staring Sasha down.

"You are my father; she told me so," Sasha growled.

"That is how I knew your mother was unreliable," Harry said, his voice pleading with Sasha to listen to reason. "The dates, the times, none of it matched up. And I was married, Sasha – I knew what it was like to sleep with a pregnant woman. Your mother was pregnant when we first slept together. I am not your father. I burned Elena as an asset the moment she told me I was."

Sasha glared at Ruth, then leaned down and kissed Daisy's temple. "Run along," he said softly, releasing his grasp on Daisy. Daisy's eyes were wide and she ran like all the hounds of hell were on her heels. "If what you say is truth, Pearce…"

Ruth took a deep breath and said, "It's true, Sasha. I've seen the files; I've collated the data."

Harry said down the line, "Please, Sasha, let my family go. There's no reason to harm either Margaret or Ruth. I will arrange a meet so that you can pass the communiqués on for analysis. There is no reason we cannot unpick this together; and if you harm Ruth or Margaret, you will not live to see another day."

"Margaret has already run away," Sasha said through clenched teeth. "But now, your wife remains and I want you to understand just how serious I am, Harry."

There was dead silence, then a strangled, "No, Sasha, please –"

Sasha picked the phone up off the floor and ended the call. He looked at Ruth with dispassionate eyes, and said, "He chose you for this burden. Marriage to a man like that… a liar and a fraud…"

"I chose him," Ruth said very quietly. "He didn't choose me." She felt panic welling up inside her belly as he caressed the side of her face with the muzzle of his gun, still warm from the earlier shot. He was going to make her an example, then, was he? Was it to be a slow death or a quick one, then?

The butt of the gun crashed against her head and she literally saw white hot stars in her vision before blessed darkness claimed her.

* * *

><p>Her ears were ringing and she couldn't hear properly; it was like she was underwater. Then everything came into stark focus and her head exploded with pain. She couldn't even open her eyes; Ruth rolled over, feeling the coolness of the tile floor, and vomited before she could stop herself. It was a migraine magnified by a factor of ten, and even her teeth ached in her skull. She could feel the nerves in her teeth pulsing, aching, in her jaw.<p>

"Mum, he's gone," Daisy whispered. "It's going to be okay –"

Ruth opened her eyes just slightly, but everything was a blur, and she closed them again as soon as the light became unbearable. "Help," she choked out. "Help me up, Daisy."

"No, you should stay down," Daisy insisted very quietly. "Daddy's coming, and I've called for an ambulance."

"How did he get in the house?" Ruth asked. The tile was cool and felt so good against the white hot pain in her head.

"He came through the back garden," Daisy said. "He forced his way inside when I let Scarlett in."

"I'm sorry," Ruth breathed, "I'm so sorry –"

The front door burst open, and Harry shouted, "Daisy!"

"We're in here," Daisy called back. "Mummy, dad's here – can you open your eyes?"

"No," Ruth exhaled weakly.

Harry fell to his knees heavily beside her, gently lifting her head onto his lap and whispering, "Ruth, god, I'm so sorry – I'm so sorry – I thought he might kill you."

Without mirth, Ruth mumbled, "I rather wish he had. My head hurts like nothing else, Harry."

He stroked her hair and wept, angry bitter tears that fell onto her face, into her hair. "I'm so sorry – I never meant to hurt you, Ruth –"

The ambulance arrived and the medics came in. Ruth submitted to their examination without a fight, and when they opened her eyes to check for pupil response, she threw up again from the sheer agony of the pain. Ruth was glad that the darkness of unconsciousness claimed her again; she couldn't fight it any longer.

* * *

><p>When she woke up again, she was in a hospital bed with a IV line in her hand and the aching in her head down to a minimum. Harry was holding her left hand tightly, his head resting on the bed; he was asleep, but only just, because when she shifted, he jolted upright.<p>

"Harry," she whispered.

"Hey," he murmured. "You've had a nasty knock to your noggin, my love." He looked scruffy and frightened and surprisingly sexy, and she squeezed his hand. "Malcolm is beefing up the security as we speak; there's no reason that should have happened."

"How bad?" she asked, using her right hand to gingerly touch the side of her face. She winced as fresh pain tore through her.

"No signs of a bleed," he said gently, "but you're going to have a hell of a time covering that bruise."

"Won't even try," Ruth murmured. "How soon till I can leave?"

"A few more hours," he said gently. "They're writing your prescriptions now."

She sighed. "I thought he was going to kill me," she admitted. "And it scared me to know that it was because of something I'd never been a part of. Just being your wife was enough to make me a pawn in that game. I was terrified he was going to hurt Daisy."

"She's your daughter, through and through," Harry whispered. "So brave, so strong…"

"Is she okay?" Ruth asked worriedly.

Harry nodded and gave her a gentle kiss. "She is," he promised.

"Oh god, we've got to go to the funeral…"

"Shut up and stop worrying," he whispered. "You're more important than my father's bloody funeral."

"No, Harry, I –"

He kissed her again. "Stop," he murmured. "Please. We have time."

She nodded and closed her eyes.

END PART FOUR


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Work has been insane and off the chain, so I haven't been able to write like I've wanted to. So, here's a chapter that may or may not make sense.

* * *

><p>Five:<br>A Shadow of Grief

Ruth tried to cover her bruises with concealer, but it somehow looked worse than when they had been simply various shades of purple and yellow. She winced as she pressed just a bit too hard against the skin, and bit back a cry. Harry immediately was on the other side of the bathroom door. "Ruth?"

"I'm fine," she exhaled weakly. "Just the bruises. I'm sorry." She finished her makeup, hoping that she at least appeared to be somewhat human. Then she opened the door. "Am I decent?" she asked weakly, knowing that she'd have to take more painkillers and soon.

"You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he said softly. "Even in mourning dress."

She'd changed from her blood-stained work clothes from the night before into a simple black pencil dress that hugged all of her curves, and had added a long charcoal grey blazer to the ensemble. Her shoes were sensible kitten-heeled pumps and her jewelry and makeup were minimal, aside from the layers of pancake makeup she hoped would hide the bruises on her face. He, on the other hand, was wearing a black suit with a charcoal waistcoat and a burgundy silk tie. He looked distinguished and in more ways than one.

"And you're very smart in yours," she said, reaching up to straighten his tie.

"Malcolm is going to keep our littles," Harry said. "And Rose and Daisy will be joining us."

Ruth nodded, feeling a touch light-headed at the motion. "All right," she agreed.

"I just think that after Ros's funeral, it's too soon for Jamie and Emma to go to another one," he explained.

"I agree," she murmured. "I need to take more pain pills."

"Let me get them," he said. "Tea or coffee?"

"Tea, please… sweet tea." When he looked at her with concern, she sighed. "Oh, don't read too much into it. It's just to help the pills go down."

"You don't have to go," he said softly.

"Yes, I do," she murmured. "I don't want you to murder your sister. Or say something dreadful to your brother."

He sighed. "I'm going in order to remember my father for the man he was –"

"He was a good man," Ruth said softly. "He had to have been; you get it from him, I'd like to think."

Harry snorted a bit. "Bloody hell, woman, let me go make your tea."

"I'm coming down with you," she said. "My pills are in my purse, which is down in the kitchen."

He rolled his eyes and nodded. "Fine, fine –"

Rose and Daisy were in the kitchen; Rose was painstakingly slicing an apple and Daisy was portioning out tea bags between several mugs. Jamie and Emma were sat at the kid's table, Emma up to her elbows in what Ruth hoped was cooled porridge, and Jamie chewing thoughtfully on his toast.

"Mum!" Emma cried excitedly. "Piddy mum!" Jamie nodded his agreement.

"Where is Malcolm?" Harry asked.

"He went upstairs to change," Rose said. "Emma got him covered in cereal." Rose finished the apple and split the slices evenly between the two kids, though keeping the one odd piece for herself. Emma immediately started in on the apple, pleased as punch.

The kettle clicked off and Daisy made the tea quickly and without fuss. "We need to get going," she said quietly, "or we'll be late."

"Yes," Harry agreed, giving her a kiss on the forehead. He leaned in very close and whispered, "I'm quite proud of you, my brave girl."

"I wasn't brave," Daisy said. "I ran, like a coward."

Ruth enveloped her daughter in her arms and held on for dear life. "I thought he might kill me," Ruth whispered. "The last thing I wanted you to see was that, Daisy, love."

"I shouldn't have just run, though," Daisy whispered, burying her face in Ruth's shoulder. Ruth held her and stroked her daughter's long, curly hair.

Finally, Daisy pulled away and swiped at her eyes a bit. "Take your pills, mum," she insisted. "We're already late and aren't we meant to be at the head of the mourners?"

Ruth took her pills and winced as the hot tea burned her throat. "Bloody hell," she muttered. "Yes, we should be going."

Malcolm came back into the room and said, "Now, I'm sure Emma would like to get cleaned up so we can go to the park, wouldn't she?"

"Go pay!" Emma insisted cheerfully. She had porridge all over her face and into her hair, and Ruth had to smile at the ridiculous picture she made.

"Yes, we'll clean you up and go play," Malcolm said. "I'll see the rest of you later. Jamie, come along – time to get dressed to go to the park."

Harry put his arm around Ruth's waist and murmured, "Onward to the lion's den."

* * *

><p>They weren't as late as all that, it turned out. Carole and Lionel were already there, with a woman about Ruth's age with a couple of teenagers – a boy and a girl – who must have been Gemma. They were at the front of the church, nearest the pulpit, and Harry took Ruth's arm. "I love you," he said very quietly.<p>

"One of these days, you'll say that and I'll forget you mean it," Ruth murmured.

"Don't ever forget it," he whispered, kissing her cheek as they walked up the aisle to meet his sister. "Carole, Lionel," Harry greeted. "You haven't met our daughters Rose and Daisy. Rose, Daisy, this is your Aunt Carole and your Uncle Lionel."

"Pleased to meet you," Rose said politely.

Daisy hesitated; normally, it would be Rose retreating into shyness, but with the painful reminder of her mortality the night before, Daisy was the one that shirked. "Hello," was all she said.

"And this is Gemma, and her children – Max and Harriet," Carole said.

"It's a pleasure," Ruth said with a small smile.

"Uncle Harry, I never thought you'd get married again," Gemma said with a smirk. "Thought you were keen on drinking yourself to death and being miserable."

A wide grin graced Harry's lips. "Ah, yes, well, I decided that misery loves company. So now I've got a houseful."

"That's not even funny," Ruth protested, despite the giggle that escaped Daisy's lips. Ruth huffed a little, but kept a firm grip on Harry's hand, their fingers entwined. He squeezed her hand lightly, and she knew he was just reassuring himself that she was there, with him.

"Mum said you've got six kids?" Gemma said.

"Between us, yes," Harry said with a nod. "You know Catherine and Graham, and then Rose and Daisy, Jamie is at home along with Emma, who we've petitioned to adopt – rather than just be her guardians. Jamie is four and Emma is two."

"Aren't you a little old to be –"

"Absolutely not," Ruth said with a small smile. "Jamie and Emma keep us young."

Gemma smirked. "You are young," she commented pointedly.

"I'm older than you," Ruth scoffed. "Bloody hell."

They were all getting into a lively debate about age and how old grumpy old Harry would be when he finally kicked the bucket when a polite male voice in accented English said, "You will probably outlive our father, Harry, seeing all the piss and vinegar you spew."

Ruth turned and her eyebrows rose in surprise. The man and woman that had joined them were clearly Julian and his wife. She was tiny, petite and with a ready smile, while he was about Harry's height. Julian was clearly Pearce; he had the same rounded face as Harry and Carole, and his eyes were a similar shade of honeyed topaz – the thing that gave it away, though, was the shade of Julian's hair. It wasn't dark like Carole's, but was a slightly darker shade of brownish red than Harry's, and it curled in a similar fashion. Despite the Asian appearance of his eyes, and his slightly olive skin tone, it was obvious he was half Western.

Ruth smiled and said, in flawless Korean, "You must be Julian. It's a pleasure to meet my husband's brother."

Julian's eyebrow rose. "You speak Korean?" he inquired in English.

"Only a little, and rather shoddily," Ruth admitted. "One of my flatmates in uni was from Seoul. She taught me some, and I took a couple of courses."

"Well, you're one up on your husband, then," Julian teased. "I could tell who Harry was by the way he blusters. Carole does a passing imitation."

Harry glared at his sister, who shrugged and hid a smile. "I'm afraid that Carole is rather cruel at times," he snapped. "You must be Julian."

"This is my wife, Mi-Cha Cho," Julian said with a small smile. "When at home, I go by In-Su, the name my grandparents gave me."

Carole rolled her eyes. "Of course you do. Because you're a good son," she muttered under her breath. "Did you bring your grandson?"

Julian's eyes clouded over and he said, "No. My son would not allow him to come with us."

"Dad!" Catherine yelped, skidding to a halt behind Harry, almost running into him. She had Ben in her arms, and it was clear that he was not happy with being manhandled, because he was about to start screaming. Harry immediately released Ruth's hand and saved his daughter. "I'm sorry I'm late – traffic –"

Harry raised Ben up over his head and blew a raspberry on his belly, earning a squealing giggle from the little boy. "Don't worry – we're all just settling in," he said. "The service isn't for a while yet."

Catherine blinked and said, "You must be my Uncle Julian."

"I am," Julian acknowledged. "You must be… Catherine?"

She nodded and said, "Yes – Graham and Jenny can't make it. They've had to go round to hospital because Jenny's gone into labor. Hence why I'm late: I was trying to get Kelly over to yours, Dad, and Ben wouldn't stop screaming bloody murder so I just brought him with."

"What about Siobhan?" Harry asked, frowning.

"She's already staying with Jenny's mum and dad," Catherine said. She tried hard, but failed, not to look offended when Ben wanted to be passed from Papa to Nana. Ruth took the little boy into her arms and gave him a kiss.

"This," Ruth said with a smile, "is Ben – Catherine's youngest. He's a very clever little boy, keen to get what he wants. And right now, he wants Nana and Papa."

"Nah," Ben cooed, tangling his little fist in her hair. Ruth winced when the baby's fist collided with her bruise, and she almost dropped him. Harry immediately grabbed at Ben and held Ruth gently, till the pain had passed and Ben was protesting about being squished.

"May I hold him?" Mi-Cha asked with a smile. "I love babies – it is sad that I only had one."

Harry nodded and passed Ben over. For his part, the little boy merely pouted for a moment, then exclaimed, "HA!"

Catherine said, "That's short for 'aha' – it's the only word he really knows."

"Aha," Mi-Cha echoed, earning a huge smile from Ben, who continued to babble at her cheerfully.

Harry leaned down and whispered, "Are you all right, my love?"

"It bloody hurts," Ruth breathed. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," he said softly. "Ben didn't mean it."

"I know," she murmured.

"He is a darling boy, Catherine," Mi-Cha said with a smile.

"He is," Julian agreed. "He looks like photos of me when I was his age."

Catherine nodded and smiled a little. "The Pearce genes are very strong," she commented wryly.

"Na!" Ben cried, making grabby hands towards Ruth, and leaning over at her as well. She scooped him up and cuddled him close.

"Be gentle," Ruth murmured. "Nana had an accident last night and her face is owwie boo-boo." She made an exaggerated pouty face and Ben echoed her with a sad face. "It's okay, Ben, you didn't know Nana had an owwie, did you?" She stroked his curly hair and smiled to reassure him. Ben cuddled up and tucked his head into the nook between her neck and shoulder.

"Someday, you'll have to teach me how you do that," Catherine sighed. "He's always so… everywhere. But he's calm for you."

"Not always," Ruth murmured. "But he knows Nana likes to cuddle with him, so we cuddle."

"I like cuddles," Harry muttered under his breath.

She shot him a Look, and he glanced away, mollified. She was about to ask Julian something when he said, "And what do you and Ruth do, Harry? I've never been told."

Harry grunted a little. "I work for the Home Office," he said brusquely. "Ruth works in another department, same place."

Julian's eyes narrowed for a moment, then he said, "I'm sure that dealing with your politicians is just as bad as dealing with mine."

"I'm sure," Harry replied in a bored, slightly snide tone. He was putting on a pretense; he knew better than what he was saying, but the closer Julian was to sniffing out their real work, the closer they were to a disaster. It was already bad enough that the Russian delegation had their claws into them, but suddenly the South Koreans seemed more of a threat to him. He was like a dog pricking up his ears at a perceived threat.

Ruth said, "Let's not talk shop, love." To her relief, other mourners began to arrive, and the actual funeral began to take shape around them. She found herself comforting Harry, because he was having a difficult time holding it together. She was beginning to regret not having known her father-in-law even more than previously.

When it was all over and they were left at the gravesite, Harry took her into his arms and held on for dear life. He wasn't crying, but the way he squeezed her was enough to tell her that he needed her for reasons he couldn't possibly express. She held him and listened to his heart beating as he looked down into the grave at the coffin.

* * *

><p>Long after the wake, Harry took Scarlett out for a walk. When he didn't return after the normal half an hour, Ruth had Tariq trace his location, and found herself at a small park, watching Harry sit on a bench, crying like the world was ending.<p>

She didn't want to intrude on his grief, but she knew she had to. Scarlett barked excitedly and took off beneath the bench to try to meet her, and Harry tugged on the leash. "No, girl," he said, his voice choked. "Stay here."

"It's all right, Harry," Ruth said as she came up behind the bench. "I'm sorry – I got worried. You've been out for a while and god knows you gave your security officer the day off."

He sniffled miserably and pointed out four people around the perimeter of the clearing. "You think I'm unchaperoned?" he asked in disbelief. "It doesn't matter if I have my security officer or not, Ruth."

She swallowed hard and sat down beside him on the bench. "I was worried," Ruth repeated softly.

"That I managed to get myself into trouble with nothing but the dog to protect me?" he asked sarcastically. "Thanks for your concern."

"Harry," she murmured, "I was worried about you. Not the bloody dog, not your bloody welfare – you. I love you. Have you forgotten that?"

"The way you were looking at Julian, I wonder if you're regretting your choice of brother," Harry muttered irritably. "And why didn't you tell me you could speak Korean?"

"Only a little, and very poorly," she said with a sigh. "And I wasn't looking at Julian any sort of a way, Harry. I love you," she repeated. "No need to be a jealous fool; you have me, lock, stock, and throw away the bloody key."

"Oh, please," he scoffed.

She pulled away from him and said, "You're being deliberately cruel in order to push me away so I don't see how upset you really are about your father, and I don't appreciate it. Not one bit, Henry James Pearce. You forget, I know how you tick. So stop it. I don't care if you cry; my job as your wife is to help you weather life day to day, hour to hour, minute to minute. So stop it."

"Stop telling me to stop," he grunted.

"No," she whispered. "It's my job to make you see reason."

"Near the end," Harry said very quietly, "he asked about you. I talked about my beautiful wife and our wonderful kids, and he asked if you had a sister." His face crumpled again, and he fought to control his breathing.

"I'm sure you made me out to be something very incredible," she said softly, "when I'm really rather ordinary."

He reached over and took her hand. "You're anything but," he said very quietly. "I fell hard and fast for you; I think it was when you did that silly shimmying dance out of your knickers that did it."

She blushed and said, "Well…"

He sighed. "I kept tabs on you, you know. Waited, watched, hoped that you'd kick Gareth to the rails. I knew about Daisy, but I didn't think she was mine. I knew the timing was about right, but…" Harry shook his head. "I knew I didn't stand a chance with you, but I wanted to –"

"Stalk me from afar?" she teased gently.

"Pluck you from obscurity if the chance arose."

She looked at their hands clasped together, and said, "Ah, yes, well… if I had been home when you'd walked up to my front door, life would have been much less complicated."

"Too many what ifs and never weres," he sighed.

She squeezed his hand and pulled him over for a kiss. "Maybe so," she agreed. "But the future is spread out in front of us and it is what we make of it. So don't push me away and erect those walls of yours, love."

"I look at Julian and see where everything could go so spectacularly off the rails –"

"You need to find it in your heart to stop punishing Carole for Jane and Lionel's transgressions," Ruth interjected softly. "Please, Harry. She needs your support, not your censure."

He sighed. "I forgave her a long time ago. I just don't know how we move on from this… this… mess." He gestured furiously with the leash in his free hand. "I don't know that we can, Ruth. It's been too long, and we've both gotten bitter."

"All you can do is try," she murmured.

He exhaled and said, "I love you."

"I love you, too. Now, it's time to go home," she insisted, "and play trains with Jamie, Kelly, and Emma."

"Any news from Graham and Jenny?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Seems like it's going to be a lot of waiting," Ruth commented. "But in the end, we'll have another granddaughter to spoil rotten."

"Are you angry with me for not being there when Daisy and Jamie were born?"

Ruth hesitated a moment, then said, "No. I couldn't be angry with you, not when you gave them to me, Harry. Maybe at the time a little, because I was in pain and hormonal… but not really."

He was frowning when he said, "I'm sorry I missed it. I should have been there, for both… and I let you down."

"You did no such thing. I'm a big girl, Harry. I can pull up my knickers and everything," she said sarcastically. "Though I will admit that I rather like it when you pull them down for me."

He sighed. "Ruth, I –"

"Let's go home," she suggested. "And we can put the little ones to bed and then retreat to our room and you can practice those knicker-pulling skills of yours."

He paused, then glanced at her. "I don't think I feel like having sex," Harry said quietly. "Not today."

"I wasn't suggesting sex," she said. "I was just suggesting that you help me get undressed. One does not necessarily include or exclude the other, Harry. Not everything between us is about sex." She smiled a little and winked at him.

"I keep thinking," he said, his voice low and ragged. "About the time we spent apart. About losing you when something goes wrong at work and you get caught in the middle. About last night. I almost lost you, Ruth, and it scared me to the core."

"I know," she whispered. "I know, Harry. It scared me, too. All I could think was that I couldn't die because someone had to tell you off for washing the reds with the whites again."

He laughed in what sounded like disbelief, but she was grateful for the sound of his gaiety, even if it was at his expense. "God, I love you, you daft woman," he confessed, pulling her into his arms and kissing her. "With all of my heart."

"And I you, you belligerent old fart," she said with a smile. "But it's time to go home now and get Scarlett a biscuit."

"Yes," he agreed.

* * *

><p>She woke up, not sure what had awakened her from such a deep sleep. And then Ruth realized that Harry was twitching reflexively in his sleep. Every so often, his leg would lurch, and it was one of those lurching motions that had woken her, clearly. They were on their sides, facing each other, legs tangled together. His arms were crossed over his chest defensively under the duvet, and she felt a sudden pang of worry when he jerked again – this time, accompanied by a string of unintelligible mumbling.<p>

"Harry," she murmured, blinking sleep from her eyes, reaching out to touch him gently. "It's okay, love – I'm here… I'm here." She hoped that soothing him would lull him back into restful sleep, but suddenly he'd grabbed her wrist and his eyes were open and wild with pure panic. "Harry, you're hurting me," Ruth said, her voice unsteady.

His nostrils flared and he inhaled and exhaled heavily as his panic subsided somewhat. "I – I – god, I'm sorry," Harry stammered out, his voice still slurred with sleep. He released his grip as soon as he realized he was still holding her like a vise.

"What were you dreaming?"

That wild, faraway panic entered his eyes again, and she bit her lip, unsure that she wanted to know at all. "It was a nightmare," Harry breathed, his voice hitching. "Just a nightmare."

She moved closer and draped her arm around him, pulling him close. "It's okay," Ruth soothed, just like she would any one of their children or grandchildren. "I promise, Harry. It was just a dream."

"Sasha Gavrik was coming after me," Harry said very quietly. "You stepped in front of him and he stabbed you. You died in my arms, Ruth – you… you told me we weren't meant to be happy together, to have love and trust and…"

"It was a nightmare," Ruth said firmly. "Of course we're meant to have those things together, Harry. Of course we are. We already do." She reached up and caressed his brow, wiping away the sweat. "You're just tired and overwrought from the funeral," she murmured. "It's okay. I'm sorry, love. I'm so sorry."

The wild, haunted look in his eyes was replaced by grief, raw sadness and pain that she knew she couldn't erase. "Ruth, I –"

She kissed him ever so gently and whispered, "Shh. Close your eyes and go back to sleep, Harry. I love you and I'm not letting anything happen between now and when the alarm goes off in… two hours."

She held him till he went back to sleep, but then she stayed awake. His imagination had elements of truth ingrained in the dream, clearly, as Sasha Gavrik was a very clear and real threat to their lives and happiness. However, she would never venture to tell Harry that they weren't meant to be happy together. What kind of insanity was that? What utter twaddle!

The alarm began to trill, and Ruth sighed, not looking forward to the advancing hours of the day.

END PART FIVE


	6. Chapter 6

Six:  
>Layers of Reality<p>

Ruth was almost finished with breakfast when the phone rang. She grabbed it before Harry could, and said, "Pearce residence."

"Ruth, it's me – Graham," Graham said. He sounded exhausted but happy. "We've got a nine pound, four ounce little girl named Eleanor Catherine Ruth. Jenny's absolutely beyond knackered, and I'm holding this beautiful little redhead in my arms…"

"Oh, congratulations!" Ruth exclaimed. "Do you want to tell your dad? Or do you want me to?"

"Can you? I'm going to have to call and check on Siobhan and let Jenny's mum and dad know," he said. "It was a really hard labor. We almost lost them both."

Ruth paused, then said, "Well, I'm glad everything is all right now. Give little miss Eleanor a kiss from her Nana and Papa, and wish Jenny our love when she wakes up."

"I will," Graham promised. "Bye, Ruth."

Ruth hung up the phone and smiled over at Harry, who was failing at not looking like he was eavesdropping. "Eleanor Catherine Ruth, nine pounds, four ounces," she said with a chuckle.

"Good lord, that's a large baby – is Jenny all right?" he asked anxiously.

"It was touch and go, but they're both fine now," Ruth said honestly.

Harry nodded and exhaled a deep sigh. "Well, I'm glad that they're okay."

"Me, too," Ruth agreed. She heard something being pushed through the letter slot, and got up to find out what it was; it was too early for the mail. What she saw was a large mailer with PEARCE written across the front in big black marker block letters.

Harry looked over her shoulder and frowned. "What's that?" he asked.

"I have no idea," Ruth said. "Doesn't feel heavy enough to have explosives, though." She opened the end of the mailer and was surprised to see scraps of paper inside. Eventually, she realized what she was looking at. "Harry, it's the communiqués Elena Gavrik has been receiving."

He glanced at one of them and said, "Those haven't been my codes since we burned her. I had to receive a new set of codes afterward. So whoever this is isn't aware of that." Harry looked at her and sighed. "Ruth, believe me, I want nothing to do with Elena. Or this nonsense. It's bullshit, the lot of it."

She nodded and said, "I'll look into this quietly. I'll do everything I can, Harry."

He gave her a gentle kiss and sighed. "I'm sorry. For all of this."

"Don't be," she murmured. "It happened a long time ago. Now, I've got an early meeting with Towers, about the state of security for the reception, so I need to go. I'll see you later; maybe lunch?"

"I've got a meeting with the Foreign Secretary that will take up the entire afternoon," he said, frowning. "Just let me know if you find something in regards to the communiqués, please."

"Of course," she said, giving him a quick kiss. "I love you."

"I love you, too," he whispered. "You didn't try to cover your bruises today –"

She shook her head. "Wasn't worth it, really. It hurt too much trying to put makeup on."

"Are you going to be all right?"

"Steady and dependable Ruth," she reminded him with a smile. "I'll see you later. We could schedule a time to have a rousing game of hide the sausage…"

He shook his head and laughed. "You're incorrigible this morning," Harry accused.

"Anything to make my man feel better," she purred, grabbing her work bag and stuffing the mailer into it. "By the way, I absolutely chose the best brother," Ruth added with a smile on her lips.

"You never met Ben," Harry pointed out. "You probably would've met and married him… he was always far less damaged than I was."

"Nope," Ruth replied cheerfully. "I always manage to fall for the broody, overly emotionally repressed men. I would've been drawn to you like a moth to a flame no matter what."

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against her skin. "I've never told you why I pulled you at the bar that night," he whispered. She shivered and barely suppressed a moan. "You were so beautiful and so sad," he breathed. "And I wanted to make you happy, even if it was only for a moment or two. It was that simple."

"You do make me happy," she murmured. "But I've got to get to work. So, later. We'll talk later."

He gave her a gentle kiss on the neck and whispered, "Yes. We'll talk later."

* * *

><p>Ruth's cellphone rang and she snatched it up. "Lady Pearce," she said softly. She'd been focused on picking through the communiqués and her brain was swimming with the information, so she wasn't exactly concentrating.<p>

"Ruth, it's In-Su."

She paused for a moment, then said, "In-Su, what a surprise. I hadn't expected to hear from you before the reception."

"I need you to meet me at one. I will send you the coordinates."

Ruth hesitated. "Why?"

"Because. Don't question, just be there. Alone."

"I won't be allowed to go anywhere alone during working hours," Ruth said firmly. "But I will attempt to meet you."

There was a sudden noise as the line went dead. A moment later, she received a sequence of numbers, which corresponded to a location. She hesitated a moment, then programmed the coordinates into her phone's GPS and she tried to think of a way to get away from her security officer.

She ended up making an excuse about picking up some intelligence from a drop and she didn't need monitoring for that. Her security officer had raised an eyebrow, and Ruth had scoffed, "Please, what kind of trouble might I get into? I'm just going to get an envelope."

Which is how she found herself at a tiny café at ten minutes till one, entertaining a mug of coffee and a biscuit. There was something wrong with Julian, and she knew it. She was carrying a canister of pepper spray in her bag, and a small caliber weapon was in a holster beneath her blazer. She told herself it was just for her self-interest, but really, she was curious as to why he was coming to her.

Julian slipped into the seat across from her with a cup of black tea. "Ruth," he greeted quietly. "Was it difficult to come?"

"As difficult as it was for you to get away," she acknowledged.

He exhaled and said, "I know what you and Harry do. I have contacts, Ruth."

"Contacts?" she echoed.

"I know that Gavrik is planning something," Julian said, "and that it involves you and Harry. There is a lot of chatter, and not any of it is good." He sighed and took a swig of his tea. "I cannot be seen to make enemies of the Russians before the summit, but I can get an earful and pass it on."

Ruth took a sip of her coffee. "In-Su," she said, "sharing information with us is tantamount to treason –"

He laughed bitterly. "You think?" He looked down into his cup, and then added, "It doesn't much matter now, does it? My father is dead. My time as a spy is about to come to a close, and I'll be able to reclaim my identity here."

"I don't understand," Ruth said softly.

He exhaled. "I've been spying for MI-6 since university," he admitted very quietly. "It was easy to climb the ladder in politics, and they helped position me to their advantage. I signed a contract to continue until my father's death, then I would defect to the UK. As soon as the summit concludes, my wife and I won't be able to leave Britain."

Ruth frowned and said, "But you would pass on information to us? Why?"

"Already on the payroll," Julian said quietly. "Why do you think Harry's not involved in anything to do with me? Plausible deniability."

"Tell me what you know," Ruth said gently.

"Gavrik is planning on putting his wife in Harry's eyeline, to influence the Security Services," Julian said.

"He's a little late," Ruth said with a sad laugh. "Harry cut ties with her a long time ago."

"She will attempt to honey trap him."

"And she will fail," she said firmly.

"Elena Gavrik is not mentally stable; she is a hardline Communist, and she will use her fanaticism."

Ruth glanced at her watch, saw that her tracker was blinking. Someone was looking for her. "I must go," she said quickly. "You, too. Thank you, In-Su," she said softly. "We will see you tomorrow night at the reception."

"Ruth?"

"Yes?"

"Harry cares very deeply for you. I only hope that he can protect you from the Russians."

* * *

><p>It was nearly midnight when Harry got home, his tie askew and his eyes dark with weariness. Ruth was sitting up in bed, going over some emails that had come through after she'd left the office for the day. She glanced up at him, and noted how gloom and doom he looked. "Hello, love," she murmured. "How was your day?"<p>

"Hermione got your dress and shoes," Harry muttered. "They'll be delivered to the Grid by lunchtime."

She wasn't exactly prepared for him to come over and flop onto the bed, fully dressed. "All right," she agreed. "Thank you for arranging that."

He grunted softly. "Mmm," he acknowledged.

She closed the laptop and set it aside. "You had a bad day, then?"

"We had a failed operation in Glasgow," he grunted. "Ten dead."

"Oh god," Ruth breathed. "Harry, I'm sorry –"

"It wasn't terrorism," he sighed. "It was just a cock-up."

"Come here," she whispered, pulling him into her arms. She kissed him ever so gently and murmured, "It wasn't your fault."

"No, it wasn't," he agreed very quietly. "But that doesn't make me feel better."

"Well, my day was… interesting," she said softly. "We're monitoring a group of dissidents in Kensington, and Beth has decided that she doesn't like being undercover where skeezy hippies could be looking down her blouse at any moment."

He laughed and nuzzled her shoulder, pressing a kiss to her skin. "I love you," he whispered.

"Mmm, I love you, too," she agreed. "But I think we're both too tired to play games."

"I don't want to play games," he muttered. "I just want to hold you and go to sleep."

"At least take your clothes off," she murmured. "You're going to ruin your trousers."

"I can always buy new ones," he sighed. "They told me you lost your security today."

"Not taking him with me on a dead drop pickup isn't the same as losing him," Ruth sighed.

"Ruth, you're a section head now; you can't just go gallivanting everywhere like you haven't a care in the world," Harry sighed. "I'm rather cross right now –"

"Oh, please," she huffed. "I took pepper spray and a gun. Just because my asset is a paranoid git doesn't mean I'm not going to try to be in control of the situation, all right?"

"Please forgive me for not thinking the highest of your self-preservation right now," Harry muttered. "After Sasha Gavrik pistol-whipped you –"

"That's different," she said dismissively. "He broke into our house, held our daughter hostage, and then used me to make a point. My asset is just a paranoid git who won't give us anymore information if I do the pickup with anyone else." She waved her hand to make her point. "So don't go thinking that I've got a death wish, because I've not."

He reached up and caressed her face, his fingers gently tracing the outline of her bruises, his touch not being enough to hurt her, but enough to communicate his distress. "I want… no, I need… I need you to be more careful," he said very softly, earnestly. "There are many foreign powers in London right now that would see you as a bargaining chip in regard to me. I need you to not give your security the slip. Send someone else to your meets, Ruth."

She hesitated for a moment, then said, "All right. But we put a team to monitor the kids and Malcolm, as well. If I need protection, so do they."

Harry nodded. "Already implemented," he admitted. "A long time ago. After Mani took the girls." His fingertips wandered over her neck, a slight frown on his lips as he contemplated whether or not to tell her more. But he didn't, and she relaxed into the caress, letting him distract her. He took a deep breath and pulled away from her, going back to his closed off posture.

Her eyes opened again and she looked at him, really looked at him, beyond the walls, beyond the stones he'd built up to keep others out, and she saw him for the tired, sad, frightened man he was. "Harry," she whispered, reaching out for him.

He stopped her. "Don't you dare look at me with pity," Harry said very quietly. "I can't bear it, Ruth. Anything but that."

"It's not pity, you stupid man," she whispered. "It's love and compassion; do you really think that when you're upset, I'm not just as upset?" She struggled with his immovable grip for a moment, then pushed past it and stroked his stubble-covered cheek. "You've lost so much, but I'm still here, despite it all. So please don't push me away and hide behind excuses. I love you, Harry."

He sighed and muttered, "I'm not trying to –"

"You might not be trying to, but you're doing a fine job of it anyway," she pointed out. She dropped a kiss on his forehead, then another on the tip of his nose, then finally one on his lips. It was chaste, barely there, just meant to be a comfort… but his arms snaked around her and he deepened the kiss into something indecent, delicious, and terribly full of want.

Her reaction was not of surprise; no, she'd expected him to need or want her desperately when the dam finally broke. She relaxed into his strong embrace and let the kisses continue, each more soul-consuming than the last. He was suddenly that man, again, the Harry who she'd met one night in a pub that wanted her to be happy just for a moment… he wasn't holding back anything, not anymore. He was raw, his soul bared to her in a way that defied anyone's description. And she would be careful, so careful, not to flay his wounds more.

It was messy, quick, and absolutely glorious; he'd barely gotten his trousers and trunks down, and her knickers had just been pushed aside. If anyone from the Home Office could see them now, in the aftermath, they would have assumed that it had been an assignation rather than a soul-soothing healing balm between them. Harry lay over her, careful not to put his full weight on her, and Ruth stroked his back, murmuring assurances of her devotion and love in his ear, still trembling with the aftershocks of jagged waves of pleasure slicing through her.

"I'm sorry," he finally croaked, the first words he'd spoken since his protest that he wasn't hiding from her. "You don't deserve to be manhandled –"

"Don't you dare apologize," she whispered, her voice low and full of deep passions that she tried to keep at bay. "Don't you dare, Harry. We both needed that, so much. Don't ever apologize for making me feel wanted, loved – please."

He rolled off of her, leaving her shivering and chilled. He got up and stripped off his clothes, tossing them across the room in the direction of the hamper, but none of the pieces quite got that far. He had lousy aim, especially with his trousers, which just ended up in a heap on the floor about six inches from the hamper. He tugged on his track pants and a t-shirt, watching her with dark eyes as he did. "What I just did was inexcusable," Harry finally said. "I never stopped long enough to ask if you… if you wanted to have sex. I just forced myself on you, Ruth. I'm no better than John Bateman." He exhaled a sad sigh and grabbed his pillow. "I'll be downstairs on the sofa if you need me."

"Harry, it might have escaped your attention, but I didn't tell you 'no', or ask you to stop doing anything you were doing," Ruth pointed out, knowing he was working on erecting those damnable walls of his again. "I rather liked it, in fact. Very intense, very hot – sizzling, in point of fact," she murmured. "If anything, I'd like to do it again sometime."

His eyes widened in surprise. "Ruth, I –"

"Sometimes, I do like a bit of fast and rough," she admitted, blushing a little. "But only with you; you make me feel safe, Harry. You didn't force yourself on me; I was a very willing participant. Now, get your arse back in bed."

He exhaled a sigh and said, "But I –"

"If you don't get back into bed, I'm going to be very cross with you," Ruth said. "And I don't think Thames House can handle a schism like that, do you?"

He contemplated her words for a moment, then got back into bed, covering up with the duvet up to his chin like a little boy. She laughed at the ridiculousness of that and turned out the bedside lamp, cuddling up against his side. "Come on, Harry, I don't bite," she murmured. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer. She snuggled into his chest and whispered, "I love you more than I can ever say, Henry James Pearce."

"I love you more," he replied automatically. But after a long pause, he added, "More than the sun, the moon, and all the stars in the sky, Ruth. If I ever hurt you…"

"You won't," she murmured, with certainty, kissing his chest through the soft cotton of his shirt.

"I might do something unforgiveable –"

She shook her head. "Silly bugger," she whispered. "Close your eyes and go to sleep. Stop trying to punish yourself for things you haven't done."

He settled a bit, and she assumed he was going to sleep, but then she felt his hand wandering over her body. She smiled a little and let him continue what he was doing, enjoying this unguarded side of him. When his fingers brushed against her knickers, she moved slightly, giving him access. Even in the darkness, she could see the desire in his eyes, the want on his face.

She gave herself up to him, letting him take things as slowly as he wanted in order to assuage himself of the fear that he'd done her harm before. She whimpered and moaned breathlessly, the sensations of her body's rising heat mixing with the emotions of how much she adored him, despite his being thick-headed and stubborn, and oh so cruel when he wanted to be. They came together in the darkness, becoming one, two hearts beating desperately in time with one another, each moment stretching on infinitely even though it was so very short in reality.

When they were forced to part again, she held him as he wept; it was all she could do, now. Hold him, comfort him, be his rock when he was awash in the stormy seas. She loved him; there was no other reason.

It was a very long time before they both fell into sleep.

But they were safe in each other's arms.

END PART SIX


	7. Chapter 7

Seven:  
>Protocols and Perversions<p>

"Do you mind I'm putting you in charge of shopfloor-level on this op, Erin?" Ruth inquired. They were in the ladies' loo, putting on the finishing touches of their hair and makeup for the diplomatic reception. Beth had already finished and moved out to the Grid to ensure that Tariq and Calum had everything ready for the audio monitoring and video bugs.

"No, I don't mind at all," Erin replied cheerfully, blotting her lipstick. "By the way, whoever chose that dress for you deserves a raise. Sir Harry's eyes are going to bug out of his head when he sees you."

"Harry's eyes bug out if I'm wearing flannelette pajamas," Ruth sighed, "so that's not exactly a good judgment on anything, tell the truth."

Erin smiled and said, "It's nice to be wanted for the sake of it, though, isn't it?" She took a deep breath and said, "Ruth, Jim Coaver is going to be at the reception as part of the American delegation."

"You cannot just whisk him off for a chat," Ruth said firmly. "The truth about the communiqués is simple: it would not be Harry sending them, and the only other two candidates were Coaver and Elena Gavrik. Harry admitted that he'd slipped up in giving Elena the codes at one point, so she could communicate information freely. Coaver was the other point of contact, so of course he knew Harry's codes. But that's where it stops. So it's either Coaver pretending to be Harry – which I don't think is likely – or Elena Gavrik pretending to call Harry to her aid in order to set him up… which I find to be the more likely scenario." She finished lining her eyes in dark charcoal, then lined her inner rims with stark, matte black. Her eyes looked positively insanely blue, and she was very pleased with the result. If she could control anything about the reception, her own appearance was it.

"We need to figure out which scenario is the true one, before it's too late," Erin said in a mild tone, but there was a hint of sharpness in the actual words she'd chosen to speak. "We also don't know if they might be colluding with one another, do we? And how solid was your intelligence?"

"I trust the asset," Ruth said very quietly as she contemplated between three lip glosses. "He has everything to lose; and that's why I trust what he has to say in the face of everything."

Erin nodded and said, "All right. We've got double the team in there tonight, and we've rotated out to the backup security officers for our people – you, Harry, Towers, the morons from Six – so in case of any issues, your normal officers won't be compromised."

"Thank you," Ruth said softly, "for taking over the planning of this. I know it is a lot to cope with in a short amount of time, but –"

Erin smiled brightly. "Hey, it's okay – I'm just glad Malcolm was willing to watch Rosie for me tonight. My mum had other plans, so it's a blessing."

Ruth nodded and said, "Malcolm is marrying my mother next week. Harry and I have been invited, for obvious reasons, but I don't know if we should go." She paused, then frowned. "Worse than that, my mum – who I don't get along with – is going to be moving into my house. I'm not sure how I'm meant to feel about all of this; I said it was all right, but I don't know that it is."

"I wouldn't be worried about it tonight," Erin warned. "You might miss something important."

"I'll not be missing anything in this dress," Ruth sighed. "I have a horrible feeling that Harry's going to have to stand guard, lest I be molested by some politician or another."

Erin laughed. "You look lovely, Ruth – who did pick up that dress, anyway?"

"Hermione," Ruth replied automatically. "The DG's assistant."

"Ohhh," Erin said, nodding. "The rather crispy woman who dropped it off, then."

Ruth laughed a little. "Yes, that's the one – I think she felt rather insulted to be my personal shopper at the last minute, which is why I'm stuck with this neckline."

"It's rather flattering, actually," Erin ventured.

Ruth studied herself in the mirror. The dress was burgundy silk, sleeveless, with a low cut vee-shaped neckline. The bodice clung to every curve Ruth had, and the cut of the dress was simple and asymmetric in the drapery. The skirt was long, but there was a slit in it that came up to mid-thigh. Fortunately, the back was solid, so Ruth would only have to worry about popping out of the front side, but… it was flattering, but she was also nervous about going too far outside her comfort zone. After seeing the dress, she'd had Rose bring round a pair of gold satin pumps that had been languishing in the closet and some of the simple gold jewelry Harry had given her when they were first married, and been done with it. There was something to be said for bold simplicity.

"I guess it is," Ruth said, "but I feel like I'm on display."

"You're Lady Pearce – you are on display," Erin pointed out. "You have been since New Year's. It's all right. Take a deep breath and make certain that there's no reason for your husband to have a wandering eye tonight. Harry taking a shine to Elena Gavrik again could be disastrous."

"He won't," Ruth said automatically, but in the back of her mind, she had doubts. Elena was glamorous and flash where Ruth was plain and preferred simplicity. Elena was unencumbered; Ruth had children running her ragged outside of work. Elena had known the same pleasures of intimacy with Harry that Ruth had shared, so was it even a level playing field to begin with? No matter how many times Ruth told herself that Harry loved her and would never leave her, there was always that niggling little voice in her head that called it out like a lie.

Erin nodded. "Thank you for taking me into confidence on the nature of their relationship," she said. "It will make protection angles easier to determine."

"So you've already said," Ruth murmured in a hollow tone, finally settling on a simple nude & gold shimmer lip gloss. Once she'd finished her makeup, she turned away from the mirror and said, "We'd best go. Harry will be waiting for me."

"And I best get to the venue for final checks," Erin replied.

Ruth nodded and left the restroom. She got her clutch (big enough to hold her lipgloss, cellphone, the portable transmitter for her surveillance bugs, and her work-issued pistol) and the matching black silk wrap to go with her dress, and headed for the seventh floor. She was vaguely aware of Tariq and Calum watching her as she walked by, but she didn't care.

She stepped out of the elevator and strode serenely down the corridor to Harry's office, bypassing many glass-walled offices. She could feel judgmental gazes upon her, but the only person whose judgment mattered was Harry's.

Harry and Hermione were just coming out of his inner office with several files, talking, when she arrived at Hermione's desk. "And can you see that my wife is at least getting ready?" Harry sighed, frowning a bit.

"Your wife is ready and waiting to straighten your bow tie," Ruth replied cheerfully.

Harry looked up and he gaped at her for a moment before he closed his mouth and blinked. "Ruth, you look –"

"Oh, I knew that gown would look lovely on you!" Hermione exclaimed. "Lady Pearce, you will be the best-dressed woman at the reception."

Ruth pursed her lips together. "Probably not," she said, "but I certainly appreciate the sentiment." She glanced at Harry, and said, "Mr. Director General, you might want to breathe before you pass out."

Harry barked out a laugh, then murmured, "Ruth, you look amazing."

"And you look very smart, aside from that crooked bow tie," she sighed. "Get over here." He presented himself for inspection and she gently adjusted his tie. "There. Much better." Ruth rose up on her toes to whisper into his ear, "I can't resist you in white tie, Harry."

He made a small noise that she recognized well; repressed longing, desire, want… "We shall stay at the party long enough to fulfill our duty, then we'll make our excuses and go home," Harry promised gruffly, his voice strangely taut with emotion that was at odds with the need in his eyes.

"No," Ruth said gently, "we'll be there for the duration, for my duties lay longer than yours. But when we go home, I know you have every intention of whisking me upstairs and doing deliciously naughty things to me." She winked at him, enjoying the surprise on his face. "Come on – the car is waiting for us, isn't it?"

"Yes," he said simply, retrieving their invitations from the hand of the smirking Hermione. "Let's away, my dear."

* * *

><p>They were far from the first – or the last – to arrive. Ruth was glad that they were somewhere in the middle of the pack; it gave her a chance to eye the surveillance team and make sure they were doing their job. It also gave her an opportunity to observe many of the economic summit's delegates as they schmoozed their way around the ballroom.<p>

She remained on Harry's arm, listening half-heartedly to her team as they bantered about the way one of the Italian Trade Ministers was chasing after the daughter of the Austrian Foreign Minister – who happened to be his plus one for the event. Ruth had to hide a smile; only Dimitri would be able to sound so scathing about the girl leading the Trade Minister on while he was busy admiring the cleavage the neckline of her gown showed off.

Harry stopped before Julian and his wife and said, "In-Su, it is a pleasure to see you again so soon."

Julian looked him up and down, then nodded. "Sir Harry," he greeted, "Lady Ruth."

Harry shook Julian's hand; Ruth saw the small piece of paper switch hands, and she smiled brightly. Harry was taking her advice and attempting to mend the tattered, almost non-existent relationship between him and his brother – the piece of paper held their home address and phone number, and an invitation to tea on Sunday. She hadn't told him of Julian's plans to defect, because it wasn't her place. But she was insistent that he at least make an effort.

Julian, for his part, didn't even react. He was a good spy, and had been a spy longer even than Harry had been. There wasn't even a flicker of surprise in his eyes.

Mi-Cha smiled and embraced Ruth as one would greet a beloved sister. "Your dress is nearly as beautiful as you are," Mi-Cha praised. "I am glad to see you; please walk around the room with me, Lady Ruth." Once they had stepped away from the men, she leaned in and murmured, "I thought we best leave them to sort themselves out."

Ruth smiled a little and nodded. "I was thinking much the same thing; will In-Su's pride allow him to allow an agreement to Harry's invitation?"

"Maybe," Mi-Cha said with a small smile. "But my pride will not allow such an invitation to be turned down." The smile widened and she added, "Besides, we will be adjourning to Scotland at the conclusion of the summit to see my mother and brother."

Ruth reacted with surprise. "You're British?"

Mi-Cha laughed. "My father was a businessman; he met my mother in Glasgow. We have been quite happy traveling back and forth to see one another for a long time, now." Her smile grew and she added, "You are shocked that In-Su and I would meet and fall in love with our similar backgrounds?"

"Just a little –"

"We met at university," Mi-Cha explained. "We had more in common than anyone else, and we fell in love very quickly and deeply. We've had no reason to question that love, even when times were hard between us."

Ruth nodded and said very quietly, "That's how it is between Harry and myself, as well."

Mi-Cha nodded. "He loves you very deeply, Ruth. I am glad you are happy, and that you are my sister-in-law. Carole can be a bit of a twat, but you seem lovely."

Ruth smiled and accepted a glass of champagne from Dimitri, who was posing as a waiter. She took a second one for Mi-Cha, and said, "Thank you, Mi-Cha. I shall endeavor forever to be less of a twat than my husband's sister." The two women clinked glasses and laughed as they sipped the champagne.

Elena Gavrik came up to them. "Mrs. Cho, Lady Pearce, we've not made our acquaintance yet," Elena said in a soft, melodic but cold tone.

"Mrs. Gavrik," Ruth acknowledged, relegating Elena to merely the ornament hanging on her husband's arm. "Mrs. Cho, this is the wife of the Russian Economic Minister, Elena Gavrik."

"You two know one another?" Mi-Cha inquired, seemingly ready to spring into action of needs be.

"By reputation only," Elena said with a smirk. "The wife of the great Harry Pearce must be accorded respect for managing his temper."

"I manage nothing," Ruth replied, smiling wanly. "Harry is his own man, and I my own woman. We always have been." She looked the Russian woman up and down, hating the way Elena's dress was so much more glamorous and tighter than hers was; her flaming red hair was clearly out of a bottle, but Ruth felt so plain next to her.

Her unease must have been apparent because Elena commented, "I think you should fire your tailor; that hem is dragging upon the floor."

Ruth flushed bright red and snapped, "Mrs. Gavrik, insulting me is not the best way to go about securing my assistance in the matter your son brought to my attention."

Elena's composure slipped and Ruth saw sudden worry and regret in the woman's eyes. "You are seeing to it?" she asked quietly.

"Yes," Ruth said, her tone becoming frosty. There was something about the woman that she could not shake; something dire, bad… it fed into Ruth's suspicions relating to the communiqués. Elena Gavrik was smooth and silken like a snake moving through the sand. "Harry has left it up to me to proceed as I see fit."

Relief lit up Elena's face. "Oh, thank god," she exclaimed. "I was afraid he would do something stupid."

Ruth felt sick for a moment; the woman clearly had already condoned her son's actions as far as breaking into their home and holding their daughter hostage. Had she sanctioned murder to make a point? "Mrs. Cho, shall we rejoin our husbands?" Ruth asked, purposefully not inviting Elena. "I'm certain they will forgive our absence."

Anything to put distance between Ruth and Elena was a good thing. The woman was making her skin crawl, and Ruth's instincts were rarely wrong.

She knew Elena would feel slighted by the sudden retreat; she knew there would be backlash, or at the very least, more unpleasantries hurtled at her later in the evening. But Ruth didn't care, so long as she got away from the Russian woman.

Ruth rejoined Harry and all but huddled up against him. Public displays of affection weren't their strong suit, so he knew something was wrong immediately, and his arm came around her, holding her close to him. "Are you all right?" Harry asked very quietly.

"No," Ruth replied in an equally soft tone.

He glanced down at her and frowned. "Ruth?"

"Ignore me," she advised. "I'm just being silly."

"You are no such thing," he said. "In-Su, Mi-Cha, please excuse us a moment." He led Ruth off by one of the windows and whispered, "What happened?"

"Your ex is a piece of work," Ruth replied. "She has no remorse for Sasha's behavior and she makes me feel physically ill at ease. There's something not right with her, Harry."

"Why do you think I burned her?" he asked anxiously. His hand came up to gently caress her face lightly where the bruise was still marring her jaw beneath her makeup. "I won't allow you to be harmed again."

"Harry, there are things that will happen, regardless of your intentions," Ruth said, bringing him down for a gentle kiss. "But I need you to listen to my warning: Elena Gavrik is not what she seems to be. I don't trust her or her son."

"Neither do I," he admitted, reassuring her with another gentle, tender kiss. "She's watching us, by the way – she probably assumes that you're weak and needy, coming to me for reassurance that I love you more than her… when nothing could be further from the truth. You don't need reassurance of my devotion, Ruth. I would not have committed to there being an 'us' if I did not love you completely, with all of my heart. Elena was a mistake of my youth; I shan't be repeating that mistake."

Ruth nodded. "I know," she whispered.

"And you are the most beautiful woman in this room," he said ever so softly.

"I love you," she said quietly.

"I adore you," he replied.

"Adoration and love don't always walk hand in hand –"

"Saying 'I love you' becomes words that are spoken, not necessarily with intent," Harry argued gently. "I adore you, I worship at your altar, I would die happily in your arms after making love till my heart gives out, Ruth – that is so much more than a mere 'I love you'."

She blushed and smiled. "Yes, that's true enough," she agreed.

"And, yes, I do love you."

"Having a little assignation in the corner, Harry?" Towers boomed as he sidled up, a glass of wine in hand. "Oh, hello, Lady Pearce…"

Ruth blushed again; was she really so unrecognizable? "Home Secretary," she greeted softly.

"Now, when will you allow me the liberty of scooping you up and depositing you in an office at Whitehall?" Towers asked a little overeagerly. "Harry's been keeping you under lock and key for far too long –"

"I've done no such thing, and you should lower your voice before you create a diplomatic incident," Harry hissed.

"I'm quite happy in my current function," Ruth murmured to Towers. "I will let you know if that changes, Home Secretary."

Tower's gaze darkened a bit. "Ah, well… pity. I could use a good mind on my side –"

"You've got many capable advisors," Harry growled.

At that moment, Ruth realized that Towers was all but staring down her cleavage. "Home Secretary, I'm afraid that you and I will never see eye to eye on policy," she said, and his gaze returned to her face. "But thank you for the kind job offer."

"If you ever feel undervalued and unappreciated –"

"Oh, Home Secretary," Ruth sighed, "that's what I have children and grandchildren for."

Towers all but stumbled over himself, attempting to get away before Harry planted a fist in his face. Ruth took Harry's hand and gently rubbed circles on the back of his hand with her thumb, calming him. "I love you," she assured him. "Only you. Always you, Harry."

He exhaled angrily. "What the hell was that – couldn't he even attempt to hide that he was ogling you?"

"He was trying to assert his dominance over you," she said. "It's that simple. And I won't allow him to play you like that; you have no reason to be upset or jealous."

Over her earpiece, Ruth heard Erin say, "Ruth, Gavrik is speaking to Jim Coaver. You and Harry need to break up their little party or there might be blood spilt."

Ruth blinked three times, getting Harry's attention. She turned her head, inclining it slightly in the direction of Ilya Gavrik and Jim Coaver. Then she looked back at Harry with rapt fascination, murmuring, "Duty calls, my love. We need to break up their little party before it becomes a full scale war."

He sighed deeply and said, "Needs must, Ruth."

She was about to pull away from him when he tugged her back and kissed her with more passion than was strictly necessary. "What… what was that for?" Ruth breathed against his lips.

"Elena is watching," he murmured back, kissing her ever so gently. "She needs to know she will not come between us."

"Oh," she breathed, slightly disappointed in his ulterior motives.

"But also," he added, "because I want you to know how sexy you are, and how much you captivate me."

"Ruth, now!" Erin added insistently in Ruth's ear. "Stop making out with Harry and make a move."

Ruth grabbed Harry by the hand and practically dragged him away from the corner. "Jim," she called in a sweetly saccharine voice, "Harry is being such a boer – how good it is to see you again."

Coaver blinked, then blinked again. "Ruth… Lady Pearce," he said, "good to see you, too. Minister Gavrik and I were just –"

"Having a difference of opinion when it relates to the majesties of the Ukraine," Ilya Gavrik said.

"Of course," Harry said, eyeing Gavrik. "The Ukraine is lovely, but I prefer Sebastapol and Yalta, if I have to be in Russian territories."

Ruth cringed; of course, he'd been to Russia more than once, and she knew it had the potential to backfire. "Love, you haven't introduced me to…" She gestured carelessly at Gavrik.

"Ilya Alexandovich Gavrik," Gavrik supplied with an amused smile. "Harry and I used to lose sleep over one another's exploits." Ruth felt a wave of disgust when Gavrik looked her up and down, his gaze settling on the swell of her hips, the curve of her belly, for just a moment too long.

"Ilya, you've not met my wife," Harry grunted in a rather ungentlemanly fashion. Truth told, neither had Jim Coaver, but Ruth was infamous in spy circles, so Coaver at least knew _of_ her. "Ruth, this is the Russian Economic Minister, Ilya Gavrik. Ilya, Lady Ruth Pearce."

She tittered about, trying to look like she was far more interested in Ilya's diplomatic clout than she was; fortunately, Harry knew what she was doing. And when Elena joined them, Coaver excused himself. "Elena, you remember Harry Pearce from Berlin…" Ilya began.

"Of course," Elena said. "One remembers incredibly virile men when one is young –"

Ilya flinched and drew away from her. "Don't play your games," he muttered in a low, angry tone. "I am not in the mood."

"So you know about the affair," Harry said very quietly.

"I always did," Ilya said curtly. "I have forgiven, but not forgotten."

Elena looked at Ruth with a bitter smile. "See what Harry does?" she asked. "He comes through and leaves chaos in his wake."

Ruth glared at her. "He does no such thing," she said firmly.

There was a long moment, drawn into darkness, before an impasse was agreed to by all parties. Ruth and Harry retreated first, not a sign of weakness, but rather a sign of knowing when to walk away. Ruth's stomach was in knots, and she was shaking with adrenaline and something that might have been fear if she'd looked at it much closer than she had. Harry's touch didn't calm her.

Something was not right.

Something was terribly, terribly wrong…

They were refreshing their glasses of wine when the unthinkable happened.

The noise came first, then a percussive wave. Suddenly, the floor rose up, the walls closed in, and pieces of debris came down in huge chunks, along with support beams.

Harry threw himself across Ruth, pulling her under the refreshments table, and she prayed that it was strong enough to hold up if the building came apart completely. Something heavy hit the table above them; she hoped to god it wasn't a person.

It was only after sudden silence reigned that she realized that she was still alive, and so was Harry. They were both covered in dust and debris, and she heard Erin's choking voice spluttering, "Ruth… Ruth…" in her earpiece.

"I'm here," Ruth choked out as Harry's hands came up to cup her cheeks and ascertain if she was all right. He had a nasty looking gash on his head and his tie was hopelessly askew like a windmill in disarray. "The Director General is with me."

Erin said, "Elena Gavrik. She's… she's dead. Blown to bits. The bomb was in her bag."

Harry was kissing Ruth's neck, nuzzling her, whispering tearful, frightened things. "Harry, it was Elena," Ruth whispered. "The bomb was in her purse."

He pulled away and flinched. "Oh god –"

"Where are you?" Erin asked anxiously. "We need to get you out of here immediately. The medics are on the way and the Met –"

"I'm under the table," Ruth exhaled. "The wine table."

Everything seemed slower than it was; even with training preparing her for the possibility of things like this, she still cried horrified tears at the smear of blood and bits everywhere that had been Elena and Ilya Gavrik. In-Su and Mi-Cha were in the far corner, relatively unharmed, and other diplomatic couples seemed to be unharmed, as well.

It was in that moment, when everyone left on her team looked at Ruth for guidance and she had none to give, that she knew. She knew without a shadow of doubt.

Ruth looked at Harry, and said, "Director General, with all due respect… I resign."

END PART SEVEN


	8. Chapter 8

Eight:  
>Inbetweens<p>

The first day after the bombing and her abrupt resignation, Ruth spent in bed, alternating between sleeping and weeping. It had been months since she'd slept well, and her body was in shut-down mode as soon as she gave in to the powerful urge for rest. And when she was awake, she was overwhelmed with the emotions she hadn't allowed herself to feel since Lucas had abducted her. Malcolm was good and kept the littles from knowing that she was even at home, so she could try to relax.

The look on Harry's face when she'd spit out that she was quitting would haunt her forever. He looked like she'd slapped him, like she'd betrayed his trust and his love. She didn't know what to expect when he came home.

She wasn't expecting him home early for the day, so it was a surprise when the bedroom door opened and he brought in a tray with dinner on it. "Hello," Harry said softly. "Malcolm said you hadn't had anything to eat all day, so I got a Cantonese takeaway."

Ruth knew she couldn't hide her tears from him; not when she looked miserable as she did. So she didn't even try. "You should be at work," she said.

There was a long pause, then Harry set the tray up for her and said, "I was worried about you, my love."

"I'm a big girl," Ruth murmured, looking at the spread of rice, chicken, and vegetables before her. "But thank you anyway, for dinner, for… for everything." She swallowed hard and said, "There's too much here for just me –"

Harry held up two pairs of chopsticks and smiled. "Thought of everything, I did."

She took her set of chopsticks and began to eat, glad that he cared enough to come home and feed her. It had to have been a terrible, hard day for him, what with the bombing and the paperwork and the aftermath… but here he was, enjoying a nice takeaway with her. "Harry, I –"

"I don't blame you for resigning," Harry said, halting her apology in its tracks. "After what's happened the last few months… I've been waiting for you to break down."

Ruth nodded slowly, then said, "I meant it, though. I can't do it anymore, Harry."

"I know," he said, very quietly. "Did you have a good lie-in today?"

"I slept. And I cried."

He nodded. "Do you feel better?"

She shrugged. "Depends on your definition of 'better', I guess," Ruth said softly, shoveling some more food into her mouth so she didn't have to talk.

"I spoke to the Home Secretary today," Harry said.

"You speak to Towers more than once a day," she countered.

"Yes, but this is about something quite important…"

She sighed and closed her eyes. "Harry, I'm not coming back to work –"

"No, you aren't, and you shouldn't," he said firmly. "But I've put in for my retirement, effective as soon as they can find a suitable replacement."

Her fingers released the chopsticks; they clattered into her bowl noisily, and pieces of rice covered in sauce exploded out across the duvet. "What?" That was all she could force herself to say, that one simple word of disbelief.

"I'm retiring," Harry repeated. "I don't want to spend the rest of my life away from you."

"But you can't just… retire," Ruth said. "Not when you're the best man for the job –"

"Ruth," Harry said patiently, "after last night, are you really going to stand there, look me in the eyes, and tell me you don't want me around?"

"No, of course not," she murmured. "But what will we do for money? Your pension isn't enough to keep us – not with our large family."

"No," Harry said, "but I invested in Jenny's company when they first got started, and I own shares. I have a good savings set aside, and the inheritance from my mother's estate. We can sell the house here and go live in the smaller one in the country and save some money by not living in the city. Not to mention, I've been playing the market and when I do go bet on the dogs, I win more often than not. Don't worry so much, Ruth."

"But – "

"And you can always find work, if you'd like," Harry said gently. "You did say you wanted to go back to teaching, didn't you?"

She exhaled a little and nodded. "I wish you would've told me before you talked to the Home Secretary…"

"You weren't in any shape for talking," Harry pointed out softly. "When I left this morning, you didn't even realize I'd slept downstairs last night."

"But it's just such a big decision and we should both be involved in making it, shouldn't we?" she asked.

"No," Harry said in a gentle tone. "We've made decisions separately before, for the good of ourselves and our family. This is one of those decisions, just as your resignation last night was." He reached over and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. "I love you, Ruth."

"I love you, too," she whispered.

"Please trust me when I say that I've wanted to retire for quite some time; spying isn't an old man's game."

"You're not that old," she murmured.

"I'm old enough – I'm a grandpa four times over," he laughed.

"Harry, I love you," she said very quietly, earnestly.

"And I love you," he agreed.

"I'm sorry if I've –"

"You haven't," he interjected before she could finish bringing the thought to life. "I just want to be home with you and the kids, if I possibly can."

She sighed and wiggled her feet beneath the blankets. "I don't want you to feel like you have to resign just because I did-"

"I'm not, and I don't," Harry said in a very firm tone. "I'm retiring because it's my time; maybe it's past my time, Ruth. All I know Is that, after last night, I can no longer play the game anymore than you can."

She finally picked up her chopsticks and went back to eating. "I still say you should think about it," she said quietly, "before you just jump into retiring."

"It's not exactly jumping," Harry sighed. "I've been thinking about it more and more since you and Jamie came home. I want time with my family before I die."

Her heart beat cold, suddenly, painfully in her chest. "I hope that won't happen for a very long time," Ruth said very quietly.

"After last night…" His voice trailed off, the implication left unspoken.

After the previous evening, so many things were the same, and so many were drastically different. Who was she to begrudge him the chance to get away and be happy when she'd all but leapt off a cliff in that direction herself?

"After last night, maybe we should look at our own happiness first," Ruth hedged softly. "We can look after Jamie and Emma and each other."

Harry smiled a little and stole one of her snow peas. "I'd like that," he said. "A lot." He leaned in and gave her a gentle kiss; it was less than passionate, all sweetness and bliss, but it meant so much that he still loved her enough to kiss her like that. "We never spend enough time together."

"No," she agreed, "we don't. But we mustn't spend so much time together that we get sick of one another – familiarity breeds contempt, remember?"

"That will never happen," Harry promised, his small smile turning into an impish grin. "I won't let it happen."

"I'll hold you to that," Ruth said softly. She twirled her fingers in his short hair, smiling when he leaned in for another kiss. "Harry…"

"Hmm?" he breathed against her lips, the vibrations making her whimper.

"Do you really want to retire?"

"I do," he said. "I'm just tired, Ruth."

"Me, too," she admitted. "Not to the same extent, I don't think, but I am tired of all the lying and the sneaking and the… everything."

"Finish your dinner," he said softly. "And we'll relieve Malcolm and your mum of their duty to put Jamie and Emma to bed so they can spend some quality time together while we read to the kids."

"I'd like that," Ruth murmured. "And then we should spend some quality time together."

"You don't want to spend time with the girls?" Harry questioned.

"Daisy's probably locked herself in her room to paint," Ruth said softly. "And Rose was working tonight."

He sighed. "We need to have Sundays more than ever now –"

Ruth nodded and held his hand for a moment, squeezing it before she went back to eating.

* * *

><p>After the littles were in bed, and Daisy checked on (she was painting, big bold strokes of color that meant nothing and formed no realism), Ruth slipped into the bathroom while Harry was closing up the house for the night. Rose had already texted to stay she was staying over with Ianto and his boyfriend because she had opening shift in the morning, so all was quiet.<p>

She took a shower, hot, steaming, because she hadn't taken one in the morning, and she began to feel human again, just by the small act of cleansing herself. Her shower gel was fragrant with orange blossom, honey, and a touch of sandalwood, and Ruth found herself relaxing under the spray of hot water.

When Harry joined her in the shower, she wasn't expecting it; she'd given up a long time ago in making him do anything he didn't want to do. Now, clearly, he wanted to be with her. "Harry," she murmured.

He cut her off brusquely. "Shush," Harry said. "Let me," he added unnecessarily. He put a small amount of her honey-scented shampoo in his hands and rubbed them together till suds appeared. He caressed her scalp, his fingertips soothing away her hurts as he gently washed her hair. "It's been too long since we've done this," he murmured.

Ruth merely nodded, struck dumb and mute by his simple, lovely actions.

"I love you," Harry said. "I don't just say it for the sake of it, Ruth."

"I know," she agreed, leaning into his touch. He gently moved her under the spray, rinsing her hair, running his fingers through her hair, smiling when she came back out from under the curtain of water again. "Let me," she insisted in a gentle tone, retrieving his washcloth from its place on the bar on the wall. She caressed his skin with the wet, sudsy cloth, listening to the moans and rumblings of his voice as he relaxed beneath her hands. His eyes snapped open when she reached his genitals, but she shook her head and assured him, "Just a quick wash, and we're done."

She finished her task and let him rinse away the bubbles. They both worked to dry each other, chuckling and smiling fondly at one another as they traced the length of scars; she was ticklish along her cesarean incision, and he loved it when she kissed the pockmarks on his shoulder, remnants of Tom Quinn and some old lady's shotgun. They had so much history between them, it hardly seemed fair to hold back on any account. If they loved one another so deeply, so truly, why not show it? Hiding it was an act of cowardice. And they were, neither of them, cowards – so far from it, in fact, that to even think it was rife with ridiculousness.

He kissed her forehead gently, then the tip of her nose, her chin, her cheek, and finally she turned into him, kissing him with delightful, delicious abandon. She moaned into his mouth, whimpering a little when he moved to pull back; he didn't understand, did he, how much she needed him? How much she loved him and wanted things to be right between them.

He pulled back and whispered, "Come to bed, Evershed."

"You're awfully bossy, Sir Harry," she countered.

"Sorry," he apologized softly, gently. "Ruth, would you come to bed with me and allow me to love you the way you deserve to be made love to?" His voice was low and gruff with emotion, and a hint of fear that she would reject his desire, so naked and fresh for her to see.

"We're naked and fresh from the shower," she teased, "and neither one of us had any thought of putting clothes on – I would think it was a foregone conclusion that we'd be having a good shag tonight… I just didn't want you thinking that you could boss me into bed."

He glowered at her for a moment till the words 'foregone conclusion' finally stuck in his head, then he grinned at her instead. She rolled her eyes and cursed the male of the species for being rather possessive, dense in the skull, and incredibly sexy. The sexy bit was where the general intelligence of the female population was watered down by DNA crossing.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" he asked, a little affronted.

"Nothing, love – no reason, I just had a moment," Ruth dismissed with a wave of her hand. He caught her hand in his fist and kissed it, letting his lips caress her skin from fingertip to wrist, each kiss giving her a small shiver of desire that wound its way up her spine.

He smiled just a touch, the skin around his eyes crinkling. "Only one moment?" he teased.

"Yeah," she exhaled. His free hand settled on her hip, drawing her closer; his fingers gently curved into her skin, and she moaned under her breath from the simple contact. He knew what he was doing to her – he was too good to not know. He played her like the most exquisite instrument, and she wanted to belt his praises to the heavens.

"I think our lives are made up of little moments," he whispered, burying his face in her neck, kissing the hollow between her neck and collarbone. "The big moments we remember – the small moments, we forget… but they're no less important or necessary than the big ones."

She inhaled deeply as he kissed his way up her neck, over her jaw, across her cheek, then to her lips, softly, sweetly, gently… And then their kiss was all-consuming, a drop of water on a boundless sea, but they floated together… always together.

They kissed and kissed, touching one another gently, remembering old favorite places, and discovering new thrills and feather-light happiness that was so ephemeral that it might blow away like a feather on the wind. Harry and Ruth were so much closer, so much more deeply in love now than they had ever been before. What had been such a bright flash in the pan had become a slow, steady burn, drawing ever deeper on their limitless well of emotion. This was not some fleeting moment in time; this was an eternity stretched before and aft, an art of love on the horizon that only they could paint. Together.

Eventually, they came up for air. She stumbled back toward the bed, her legs too shaky to really hold her weight, her heartbeat racing as she pulled Harry after her. They fell onto the duvet in a tangle of limbs and warm heat, losing themselves in another delicious round of kisses.

They settled into their favorite position, on their sides – Ruth on her left side, Harry on his right – arms resting alongside each other, forming a pillow for their heads as they kissed. He stroked her cheek and jaw with his free hand while she stroked his side with light touches. It was frightfully, fiercely intimate in a way that cemented their bond beyond all measure. When they were like this, they laid their souls bare in judgment of one another's faltering; there was no looking away, no pretending it hadn't happened. It was raw, fierce, beyond powerful. It was them, naked – fully, utterly prone.

They took their time, stoking the banked fires of their passion until Harry pulled out of the kiss and whispered, "If we don't make a real move soon, I'm going to come all over the sheets." Ruth laughed and pressed her forehead against his with a smile on her lips, knowing just how he felt.

"Making out is for teenagers," she teased softly, lifting her leg and draping it over his hip. His hand slid down her body to her buttocks, pulling her closer. It took very little effort or movement for him to begin the slow, torturous first thrust into her, and Ruth's eyelids fluttered closed as she attempted to hold tight to what was left of her tattered self-control. She bit her lower lip, whimpering and moaning in spite of herself, feeling him stretch her slowly, until he was so deep inside her that there was nowhere else for him to go. He stilled, holding her, waiting for her approval to make a move.

The pleasure of being joined so tightly, so intimately, was overwhelming. Ruth felt nothing but his hand, caressing her ass and upper thigh, and her core, where they were joined. She felt the spasms start and could do nothing but let them wash over her, leaving her shaking and breathless with release. "Oh… Harry…" Ruth gasped.

He said nothing, but took her words as his cue to move. He kissed her, shifting his hips, sending a jolt of strong, intense pleasure through Ruth's body. She moved in counterpoint to him, and they soon found a rhythm and pace that they could both keep up. Hands wandered, kisses intensified to the point of madness, tongues mimicking the desperate thrusts and tugging below – back and forth, give and take.

She came twice more before he finally let go; her orgasms were intense, beginning as tremors in her fingers and toes, moving up her body until she was paralyzed with pleasure, then sudden release broke the tension and all that was left was him, moving inside her, despite her muscles clamping around him. The third time, it was only moments after she came back to herself that he stilled, holding her flush, tightly against him, his face red from lack of air as an animal cry escaped his lips. It was so primal, so fulfilled that she felt her own face flush in response to his release.

They were very quiet in the aftermath, still joined, still holding tightly to that place where they were so strongly bound. His free hand was cupped around her breast, thumb poised on her nipple; her free hand was lightly dancing over his hip, making him shiver.

Finally, he found his voice. "One of these days, my heart is going to give out while we're doing this," Harry whispered, capturing her lips in a gentle, chaste kiss. It was soothing, reassuring, that kiss. It was all the things that they could never say afterward, wrapped up into a small pretty package with a bow on top.

"Hopefully not for a very long time," she murmured, returning the kiss. Her hand came up to gently wipe the sweat off his brow, and she smiled. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Harry Pearce."

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"For what?"

"Everything. Everything I've failed to protect you and the kids from –"

She kissed him again and whispered, "Don't apologize for things outside your control." She reached down and squeezed his bottom, and smiled. "Just apologize for not being able to do this to me every night, Harry."

"I'm sorry," he said automatically.

She smiled. "Maybe you'll find some hidden benefits to retirement?"

He groaned as he shifted and slid out of her. "Ruth, I –"

"We can make love more often," she supplied sweetly, kissing the tip of his nose. "Benefit number one, right there."

It was a long moment before he nodded and smiled, leaning in, kissing her softly. His breath was hot on her face; his body was warm and comforting and full of life beside her.

For once in her life, Ruth was content.

END PART EIGHT


	9. Chapter 9

Nine:  
>Untainted Vistas<p>

Several weeks came and went; life went on, but Ruth was content to take it by the balls and wrestle herself a place of sweet honor in her children's lives again. It felt so good, so right, to be at home with them instead of running off to work every morning and not returning till bedtime – if at all. Jamie was delighted with the arrangement, and Emma proved to be a cuddlebug and sweet as could be, eagerly learning new things from 'mum'.

Malcolm married Elizabeth and they took up residence in his attic rooms, helping with the housework and the watching of the kids when Ruth wanted to step out for a while. Ruth and her mother settled into a bit of a silent impasse where neither one was wanting too much to upset the status quo. It hurt too much.

Their Sunday family days continued unabated, and Ruth and Harry reveled in spending time with their new granddaughter – and all of the other children and grandchildren. Eleanor was a bright, alert baby with huge brown eyes and bright red hair, and she loved being held by Ruth, who would coo over her and read her stories in an excited but soothing tone. Kelly, Ben, Emma, and Jamie would all come over and listen to her, as well.

Siobhan was learning how to cook, so she kept bringing her efforts over to Nana and Papa's house. One week it was brownies, one week it was cookies, and the next, it was a little container of lentil soup for them to sample. Jenny and Graham were so proud of their girls that they were practically beaming, and once he'd learned that Ruth had quit work to spend more time with her family, his attitude toward her had changed entirely.

Catherine and her children were a fixture of the house on the weekends; Catherine worked hard during the week, leaving Kelly and Ben with Ruth now, instead of the nanny she'd had before, and on the weekends, they stayed over. Kelly and Jamie were the best of friends, and Emma and Ben were shyly becoming just as close.

But still, despite the invitation Harry had given them, Julian and Mi-Cha had not appeared at their home. Neither had Carole, but Ruth felt very little remorse about that. She knew that Julian and Mi-Cha had defected, that they were still in Britain, but other than that, she wasn't going to go digging.

Life settled into a pattern, and Ruth was glad of it. Out with the unpredictable, in with the mundane!

Until one morning, when she woke up and Harry was still in bed, eyes closed, mouth open slightly as he snored softly. It was nearly seven and the alarm hadn't gone off – and the baby monitor had come to life with the sounds of Emma as she began to stir. She frowned and reached over to shake him gently. "Love, you need to get up – you'll be late for work," Ruth murmured.

"No work," he mumbled sleepily. "Retired now. Bugger off and lemme sleep."

"When did that happen?" Ruth asked in alarm. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He sighed. "Yesterday." Harry blinked back to some semblance of wakefulness and yawned. "You were asleep when I got home. Towers and the PM took me out for drinks; it was late when I got in. I didn't want to wake you."

"You should have!" she exclaimed indignantly.

"Why? So you could yell at me for pushing my paperwork through early?" he asked with a little smile. "No, it's okay."

There was a little noise on the other side of the door, and then a plaintive whine of, "Muuuuuuum!"

"That's Emma," Ruth said, getting out of bed and opening the door. "Hello, love," she said, scooping up the little girl. "Did you go on your big girl toilet?" Emma yawned and nodded, burying her face in Ruth's shoulder. "That's my big girl," Ruth praised softly, rubbing Emma's back.

"Daddy," Emma said, pointing at Harry. "Get up. Time for wowk."

Ruth stifled a laugh. "Honey, daddy's not going to work today," she said softly. "He's going to stay home and play with us."

Emma gave him an odd look. "No wowk?"

"No work," Harry confirmed.

"Oh," Emma said, frowning and tucking her face back into Ruth's shoulder. "Eggies, mum?" she asked.

"Do you want eggs and soldiers?" Ruth asked softly. "Let's go downstairs and make breakfast, love."

Ruth carried Emma into the nursery where Jamie was beginning to stir. "Time to get up, Jamie," she murmured in a sing-song voice. "We've got to take you to school soon. Do you want eggs and soldiers?"

"Yes, mummy," Jamie mumbled in reply, getting up and rushing to the bathroom.

Ruth carried Emma downstairs and set her at the kids' table, tinkering around the kitchen getting juice and fruit together for the kids as she set up the coffee pot and got eggs to boiling. Emma grabbed at her sippy cup with delight and began to enthusiastically guzzle her grape juice. When Jamie stumbled in, still sleepy, he got his cup with its little straw full of juice – apple – and he settled in across from Emma. They shared the apple slices and the orange sections happily.

Ruth jerked, startled, when Harry's arms came around her waist. She hadn't heard him come in, let alone get close enough to hug her. "Harry," she murmured, "don't do that – you scared the wits out of me."

"I should have woken you up," he said softly. "I didn't think about it, though. I'll take Jamie to school this morning. I've missed out on everything with him; I'm going to try to make up for it now."

"Harry, you don't have to atone for everything in one day," she teased. "What do you want for breakfast? I think there's some bacon in the fridge and I put on a couple of extra eggs."

"Some coffee would be fine," he said, kissing her neck. "I love you."

"Soppy old sod," she murmured.

"Daddy," Jamie said, trying to get his attention, "you gotta go get dressed because you'll be late for work!"

"I'm not going to work," Harry said with a smile. "Would you like me to take you to school today?"

"No," Jamie said quickly. "Mummy takes me to school. You should stay here with Emma. She doesn't like car rides much and cries when mummy takes me to school."

Harry turned to look at Emma and Jamie. Emma was nodding about what Jamie had said, and the little boy looked concerned for her. "Okay, mummy will take you to school and Emma and I will stay here and play," Harry promised. Emma's face lit up and she scarfed down another piece of orange.

Ruth smiled and gave Harry a kiss. "You're such a soft touch," she teased gently. "But Emma does cry whenever we get into the car, so thank you. And you'll be here when Catherine brings Kelly and Ben."

Harry smiled. "Oh, good," he said.

They would work together to create a new kind of normal, she knew. Ruth was still a bit pissy that he'd neglected to mention that he was fully retired now, but they would fight and it would be over soon enough.

It felt good, though, to have him home.

* * *

><p>Ruth was pulling the roast out of the oven when she heard the doorbell ring. She didn't have time to go check it, so she left it to Harry. It was Sunday, after all.<p>

He'd been retired for eight weeks now; two months of practical bliss. They made love whenever the mood took them – and they could get away from prying children's eyes – and took turns cooking, doing laundry, and putzing around. It was lovely for the most part.

When she'd finished getting the Yorkshire pudding into the oven, she stood up and glanced toward the doorway, finding him watching her. "Supper will be ready soon," she promised.

"Do we have enough for three more?" Harry asked. "Julian, Mi-Cha, and Carole," he added when she raised an eyebrow in silent question.

"Of course," she replied with a smile. "There's always room for your family, Harry."

Amends were being made; their lives were so full to bursting, even without work to make it worse. They could truly be content now, couldn't they?

END PART NINE


	10. Chapter 10

So, here we are... at the end. I've kind of buggered up this trilogy, so I'm all done now.

* * *

><p>Ten:<br>The End

"Nana?" Kelly said softly, poking her head into her grandparents' bedroom. _So she was the emissary, then_, Ruth thought, _the one that the others sent when they weren't sure how to approach her_. "Mum wanted me to tell you that dinner is almost ready."

Catherine had been Ruth's first call, when it had happened. She'd not left since she'd arrived at the house in Suffolk. Slowly, everyone else had come to the village, filling up the small hotel and the B&Bs and Ruth and Harry's house to brimming.

And yet… Ruth felt so alone now.

She was surrounded by everyone she loved… but she was so alone.

"Tell her…" _Tell her to bugger off. Tell her I'm not all right. Tell her I'll never be all right again._ "Tell her thank you for making supper, and I'll be down shortly," Ruth said softly.

"Aunt Rosie finally got here," Kelly said. "Her flight out of St. Louis was cancelled because of the snow, so she drove to Atlanta and caught a flight to Gatwick."

So that was it, then – they were all here. All but Harry, now. He'd died peacefully in his sleep; the doctors said it was a massive stroke and he'd not even had a chance to wake up before he was gone. Ruth had been at Oxford, guest lecturing, and she'd come home to him cold, dead, prone in their bed. She hadn't been able to sleep since then.

Kelly came over and hugged her tightly. "I'm so sorry, Nana," she whispered. "I'm so sorry."

Ruth's face crumpled and she held onto her granddaughter, crying so hard she couldn't breathe. "Oh, god, what am I going to do?" she sobbed.

Kelly whispered, "You're going to come downstairs and have supper, Nana. And then you're going to hold Sarah and sing her to sleep for me, just like you used to do for me when I was little. And tomorrow… tomorrow, we'll say goodbye to Papa properly."

Ruth closed her eyes and knew that she'd never be able to say goodbye.

Especially not properly.

il est terminé


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